


Going Down Fighting

by LeilahMoon



Series: Slow Grenade [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Inter-House Unity, Horcrux Hunting, Horcruxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 23,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26951341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilahMoon/pseuds/LeilahMoon
Summary: ---Part IIIThe Deathly Hallows and Hogwarts Eighth Year---The title for this work comes from ‘Going Down Fighting’ by Phlotilla ft. Andrea Wasse & Topher Mohr---Although each follows on from the other, I think Part III could be read as a stand-alone piece of work. However, I would recommend reading the final two chapters of Part II first for some additional context.---
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Slow Grenade [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904425
Comments: 252
Kudos: 354





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The characters in this story are not mine, they belong to JK Rowling. I definitely do not own Harry Potter (if only). I have also, at times, taken exact quotations from the books to highlight how things can be interpreted differently from another’s perspective.

Hermione Granger stood outside her childhood home in Hampstead and attempted to commit every inch of the small, detached property to memory. Her stomach clenched with anxiety and a wave of nausea washed through her as she thought about what she had to do.

She had agonised for weeks over how to keep her mother and father safe during the upcoming war, knowing it was likely Voldemort would seek to find and torture them for information. Obliviating them was an unwanted idea that she tried desperately to ignore, willing another solution to present itself, but time had run out and it was now her only option.

Her parents had always wanted to go to Australia and that was some small comfort at least. Assuming she survived the war, Hermione planned to find them and lift the enchantment. Hopefully. There were no guarantees she could bring back all of their memories, but she wouldn’t allow herself to think about that yet. The thought of losing them permanently was too much for her to bear.

Steeling herself, she unlocked the pale grey front door and stepped into the entrance hall for what might be the last time.

A voice called from the kitchen, “Hermione?”

“Just coming, mum.”

She had spent a long time considering how their last evening together should go. Should she have dinner, stay the night, pretend like everything was normal? Or should she do the deed without announcing her presence at all? In the end she had decided that sharing a cup of tea was an acceptable compromise.

Hermione looked around at the cosy interior as she walked to the kitchen. She gave her mother a tight hug before leaning across to fill the kettle with water.

“Why don’t you take a seat, dear, I’ll bring out the tea when it’s ready."

She nodded and went into the lounge.

A few minutes later, Jean Granger placed a pot of tea on the table as her husband, Richard, followed with the teacups. “It’s a good thing you sent that owl to us when you did,” she commented. “We were meant to be going out this evening.”

“Oh, I’m sorry mum, you should have said!”

“Nonsense,” Jean smiled. “We weren’t expecting you home for a while yet, so it’s a lovely surprise.”

“How’s school been, love?” Richard asked.

Her voice was somewhat shrill as she nodded, “yep, all fine, fabulous, fab.”

Hermione couldn’t miss the look that passed between her parents. “That good, hey?” Richard chuckled.

“It’s just been… busy.”

“I can imagine,” Jean said, nodding sagely. “You’re going into your final year now, after all. Your teachers will have had to make sure you’re all prepared for the T.O.A.D.s.”

“Close,” Hermione laughed. “They’re N.E.W.T.s.”

They continued to chat comfortably about nothing in particular for a while longer. Eventually, Jean stood up from the sofa and collected their teacups together. Looking at Hermione she asked, “lasagne okay for supper, love?”

Hermione swallowed. “Sounds great, thanks mum.”

Her father got to his feet as well and headed into the kitchen to help his wife, ruffling Hermione's hair fondly as he walked past. Hermione stayed seated for a long moment, willing away the hot tears that had begun forming behind her eyes. She knew she had to stop stalling. It was time.

Padding silently into the kitchen, she smiled sadly at her parents backs as they stood together by the sink, looking out at the garden. Her mother laughed at something her father said and she lay her head against his shoulder.

Hand trembling slightly, Hermione whispered the dreaded word.

“ _Obliviate_.”

With another wave of her wand, she removed all trace of her existence from the house. A silent tear rolled down her cheek as the family photographs corrected themselves, now depicting just one smiling couple rather than a family of three.

She made her way back to the entrance hall and placed two new passports and two Australian visas on the console table. Hermione didn’t look back as she left the house, quietly pulling the door shut behind her.

Choking back a sob, she walked quickly down the quiet suburban street until she came to a small park they used to visit as a family. Beneath one of the large willow trees stood a weathered bench that had been dedicated to her grandfather. Hermione sat down heavily, running a finger across the small silver plaque, and let herself cry. She cried for everything she had already lost and everything that was yet to come.

The sun was low in the sky when she finally came back to herself, the park was empty and shrouded in an orange-gold glow. Shivering, she checked the time and swallowed painfully against her raw throat; it was later than she had anticipated.

Before another wave of grief could drown her, she reminded herself of who it was causing the pain: Voldemort. Anger flared suddenly inside her, dampening the sorrow. He would pay for all the atrocities he had committed, all the suffering he had created.

A steely determination took over her as she slowly put herself back together. The feeling wouldn’t last long, she knew, but it was a welcome reprieve.

Hermione spun on the spot to Disapparate back to the Burrow, there was work to be done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been toing and froing between ideas about how best to cover some of the hunt for Horcruxes when much of it doesn’t involve Draco. I know a lot of people aren’t huge fans of a first-person perspective so this is the only chapter written in this way – but I’d be really interested to hear how you all find it :)

_Dear Draco,_

_I’m writing this letter to you because I feel so alone. I’m never going to send it, obviously, I just want to pretend. Pretend that none of this ever happened. I’m still so angry with you. For leaving me the way you did, for not trusting me enough to help, for whatever the hell happened on the Astronomy Tower. But there’s no point ruminating anymore, I’ve done enough of that. All I’ve got to focus on now is keeping Harry, Ron, and myself alive. That’s no easy feat, I can promise you._

_Our mission to liberate Harry from his aunt and uncle’s house happened today. I was one of the ‘Seven Potters’. I wondered whether you were there and whether it would bother you if I was killed. Instead, it was Moody who lost his life and Snape almost killed George._

_I’m not stupid, I know what I signed up for and I knew it would be dangerous but… I think the reality of the situation really hit home today._

_We’ve been trying to continue with life as best we can, Bill and Fleur even got married. The happiness didn’t last long though. As I’m sure you were aware, Death Eaters swarmed the Burrow and rounded up as many guests as they could. I can still hear the Patronus that appeared from Kingsley, I don’t think it could ever be erased from my memory: “The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”_

_Hermione._

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_It feels strange to think that you’re back at Hogwarts for your final year whilst we risk our lives to put an end to this war. I wonder whether you thought Harry and Ron would return, you must have known I wouldn’t be there – not with the Muggle-born Register, and all. Does that bother you? Do you care what’s happened to me at all?_

_Voldemort has probably told you by now that we broke into the Ministry, although he won’t yet understand why. It was surprisingly less disastrous than I’d thought it would be (clearly my expectations were exceedingly low). But, unfortunately, it meant we had to leave the safe house. We’ve been travelling from place to place since then, keeping as hidden as we can, and scavenging food where possible._

_I’m terrified, Draco. I hardly sleep, jumping awake at the slightest noise, and even when I do manage a few hours I’m plagued by nightmares. It’s like the fear has seeped into my bones, refusing to give me a moment to breathe. I keep wondering whether this is how you felt last year and I know I should have asked you more often. You pushed me away, but I let you, and I’m sorry for that._

_I wish I could find comfort in your arms, but I know I’ll never find anything there again._

_Hermione._

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_Ron kissed me._

_We were sat together on our evening watch when he pulled me to him, his lips hot on mine. I kissed him back and it was… nice, I guess. Nice to feel wanted in that way again. But all I could think about was you. The way you held me, how you felt pressed against me, inside me, your smell, your taste. He wanted to go further and, well, I just couldn’t. It felt wrong. I still feel like I’m yours._

_I tried to explain that I didn’t feel that way about him, but it was difficult for the argument to hold much weight when my lips were swollen from his kisses. It eventually turned out that, for a long time, he’s held the belief that I’m in love with Harry; my denying him apparently confirmed it._

_Ron left that night, said he couldn’t bear to be in the same space as Harry and I. Can you imagine if he knew it was Draco Malfoy who tore out my heart and left me to bleed?_

_Your lips are no longer the last to claim mine. I didn’t realise how much I would mourn that._

_Hermione._

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_I told Harry about us today. We’ve both been struggling since Ron left and have found ourselves talking long into the night about anything and everything. I don’t think I’ve cried as much since the night you left me, but it actually felt quite cathartic: telling him about all the good (amazing) moments, as well as the not so good (devastating)._

_Harry was surprisingly calm and rational about it. He just held me as I talked about us in way that I’ve never been able to before. He didn’t understand, of course, you’ve never exactly given him a reason to._

_He told me that he saw us dancing at the Yule Ball and thought there was something odd about the way we looked at each other, as though we were the only two people in the world. At the time he put it down to having too many Butterbeers, but now he knows the truth. I remember that night so clearly, the first time we kissed. We were so young, but I couldn’t see myself with anyone but you._

_Hermione._

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_Today Harry and I were almost eaten by Voldemort’s giant snake. I wish I were joking. I wish I never had to put those words together in a sentence. I was hesitant to go to Godric’s Hollow but Harry has been so good to me. I don’t know, I wanted to give him something back, I guess._

_The necklace you gave me last Christmas… I think it saved me. The snake almost bit my neck and a sudden flash of light burst from my chest, protecting me. It sounds crazy, I know, but since it’s only me reading this, I can say what I want. Was it you, Draco?_

_Anyway, we’re fine. Physically, at least. Not that you would care either way anymore. Merlin, why am I still writing these? I suppose it's my final connection to you. One I can't seem to let go of._

_Hermione._

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_Ron came back. He says he’s sorry, but it’s hard to forgive him. He left Harry and I when we were at our lowest and we’re not sure how to accept him back. Obviously we’re all trying to get along again, and Ron’s on his best behaviour, but he just doesn’t quite understand the despair that fills Harry and I every day that passes without us destroying another Horcrux._

_We went to visit Xenophilius Lovegood yesterday and he attempted to hand us over to the Death Eaters. I understand why he did it, his daughter has been taken, but it was terrifying and I felt almost paralysed in fear. I’m still not sure how I managed to get us out of there._

_I hurt Draco, so much, all of the time. But I have to stay strong. They need me and I won’t leave them._

_Hermione._


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Draco..._

Sat on her bed in Shell Cottage, Hermione had begun her usual writing ritual but found she couldn’t manage it that day. She stared down at the parchment as her hand shook and a hot tear rolled down her cheek. She thought her heart had already entirely broken in two, apparently not.

The unwanted memories came flooding back.

_“The name’s Taboo!” Ron bellowed, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent. “I told you, Harry, I told you, we can’t say it anymore – it’s how they find –”_

_“Come out of there with your hands up!” said a rasping voice through the darkness. “We know you’re in there! You’ve got half a dozen wands pointed at you and we don’t care who we curse!”_

Pressing her fingers painfully against her temple she tried desperately not to remember entering the Manor, or the familiar drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy. But it was always the image of Draco's face that pulled her, kicking and screaming, back into the flashback.

_“Look, Draco, isn’t it the Granger girl?”_

_“I… maybe… yeah?”_

Hermione dug her fingernails into her palm, willing herself back into the present. It didn't work.

_Bellatrix Lestrange took a short silver knife out from under her robes and cut Hermione free from the other prisoners. Harry and Ron were led away by Greyback as Bellatrix dragged her by the hair into the middle of the room._

_Pinned to the ground, the balls of her spine crunched painfully against the cold stone. Hermione searched frantically for Draco. It was the first time she had seen him for almost a year and he looked terrible. Dark circles were etched beneath his eyes and stood in stark contrast to his pallid face. His sharp features highlighted hollowed cheeks and she could tell he had lost a significant amount of weight._

_Draco took a jerky step towards her and then Hermione saw him freeze in place. A cold sweat slithered across her skin and any hope she'd had left drained away, he would not be her salvation today._

_Hot, putrid breath ghosted across her skin as Bellatrix screamed, “I know you stole my sword, Mudblood! What else did you take from my vault, what ELSE?”_

_Hermione writhed, shaking her head desperately, “we’ve not been in your vault… haven’t taken anything.”_

_“DO NOT LIE!” Bellatrix snarled, and spit sprayed across Hermione’s face. “CRUICIO.”_

_Hermione’s screams echoed off the walls. It was pain beyond pain. Every muscle in her body stiffened with contractions and she felt as though she were being burnt alive._

_“How did you get into my vault?” Bellatrix shrieked again. “Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?”_

_“We only met him tonight!” Hermione sobbed. “We’ve never been inside your vault… it isn’t the real sword! It’s a copy, just a copy!”_

_“A copy?” screeched Bellatrix. “Oh, a likely story!”_

_The wild haired woman retrieved her knife again and, this time, pointed it towards Hermione’s inner arm. The cold blade whispered across her pale, bare skin, and goosebumps formed beneath the metal. Hermione delved deep into Draco’s storm grey eyes, bracing herself for what was to come._

_After the first slice she floated above her prone form, watching with detached interest as one letter after another marked her permanently to form a terrible word. She could see her body writhing in agony and blood pour from the injury._

_“We can easily find out,” came Lucius’s voice. “Greyback, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!”_

_Hermione was graced with a few moments of reprieve from the torture and plummeted back into her body. Images of happier times fluttered into her mind and these snapshots of the past alleviated some of the pain._

_“Well?” Bellatrix said to Griphook when he was thrust in front of her. “Is it the true sword?”_

_“No,” said Griphook. “It is a fake.”_

_“Are you sure?” she panted. “Quite sure?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Bellatrix leered nastily at the goblin, “good.” And with a casual flick of her wand she slashed a deep cut into the goblin’s face, and he dropped with a yell at her feet. She kicked him aside. “And now,” she said, in a voice that burst with triumph, “we call the Dark Lord!”_

_Pushing back her sleeve, Bellatrix touched her forefinger to the Dark Mark._

_“And I think,” said Bellatrix, “we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her.”_

_Hermione was vaguely aware of Harry and Ron pounding suddenly into the room and one of them screaming ‘NO’ over and over again._

_“Expelliarmus!” Harry roared as Bellatrix’s wand flew into his hand._

_Ron yelled, “Stupefy!” and Lucius collapsed onto the hearth._

_Jets of light flew around the room making Hermione feel dizzy and nauseous. She was pulled roughly to her feet and held upright by Bellatrix. Her head lolled slightly, she could barely keep her eyes open. Bellatrix pressed something painfully cold against her throat._

_“STOP, OR SHE DIES!” she screamed. “Drop your wands or we’ll see exactly how filthy her blood is.”_

_Ron and Harry stood rigidly, clutching their wands._

_“I said, drop them!” Bellatrix screeched, pressing the blade into Hermione’s throat. She could feel beads of blood drip down her sternum._

_“All right!” Harry shouted, and he dropped his wand to the floor. Ron did the same. Both raised their hands to shoulder height._

_“Good!” she leered. “Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!”_

_A loud grinding noise came suddenly from above, the crystal chandelier trembled violently and then, with a crack, it began to fall. Bellatrix was directly beneath it; dropping Hermione, she threw herself aside with a scream. The chandelier crashed to the floor in an explosion of crystal and chains, falling on top of Hermione and the goblin, who still clutched the sword of Gryffindor. Glittering shards of crystal flew in all directions. Draco doubled over, his hands covering his bloody face._

_Ron ran to pull Hermione from the wreckage. He held her tightly to his chest as he Disapparated and she finally let the darkness take her._


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione had little time to recover from her ordeal before she, Harry, and Ron began planning their next move. Whilst she remained strong in their presence, nightmares continued to plague her and she awoke screaming most nights. Only silencing charms kept the others from hearing her torment.

The trio were to infiltrate Gringotts and search the Lestranges’ vault; Harry was certain that one of the Horcruxes was hidden inside, considering Bellatrix’s terror that they had been in there. It was agreed that Hermione would drink Polyjuice Potion and transform herself into the woman who tortured her on the floor of Malfoy Manor.

The idea of this terrified her. Each weeping cut on her arm seemed to throb more painfully as the day grew nearer. But, whenever her breathing grew shallow and the fear sought to overwhelm her, Hermione would remind herself that she was imperative to the plan, she couldn’t refuse.

* * *

Hermione collapsed on long, green grass, coughing and shuddering. They had just leapt off the dragon after their escape from Gringotts, their mission a success.

They all had angry red burns over their faces and arms, and their clothes were singed away in places. Harry and Ron winced as Hermione dabbed essence of Dittany on to their many injuries.

Harry’s eyes suddenly widened in panic as he slammed a hand against his forehead. “He knows, Voldemort knows, and he’s going to check where the other Horcruxes are, and the last one is at Hogwarts.”

“What?”

Ron was gaping at him; Hermione knelt up, looking worried.

“But what did you see? How did you know?”

“I saw him find out about the cup, I – I was in his head, he’s angry, and scared too. He can’t understand how we knew, and now he’s going to check the others are safe, the ring first. He thinks the Hogwarts one is safest, because Snape’s there, because it’ll be so hard not to be seen getting in, I think he’ll check that one last, but he could still be there within hours –”

Harry hadn’t seen _where_ in Hogwarts the Horcrux was, but he was determined to head there immediately. Hermione wished they had time to plan, it seemed incredibly stupid to charge recklessly into such a heavily warded location, but Harry was right: they could not risk Voldemort reaching the Horcrux first.

Hermione and Ron had no choice but to grip tightly onto Harry’s arms as he Apparated them into Hogsmeade. She prayed they wouldn't run into Draco.

Adrenaline cascaded through her as they narrowly avoided capture and, despite her trembling limbs, made it safely to the Hog’s Head where Aberforth Dumbledore summoned Neville who led them into the Room of Requirement.

To her surprise, most of Dumbledore’s Army were present and those who weren’t arrived shortly afterwards. Harry had decided that he would finally involve them in the task ahead, although Hermione wasn’t sure his speech instilled much confidence.

“There’s something we need to find,” Harry said. “Something that’ll help us overthrow You-Know-Who. It’s here at Hogwarts, but we don’t know where. It might have belonged to Ravenclaw. Has anyone heard of an object like that? Has anyone ever come across something with her eagle on it, for instance?”

Silence followed and the students looked at each other, somewhat bewildered.

Finally, Luna spoke up, “well, there’s her lost diadem. The lost diadem of Ravenclaw?”

Disappointment floated around the room as the realisation sunk in, the _lost_ diadem.

Regardless, Luna took Harry to the Ravenclaw common room to show him what the diadem looked like whilst Hermione and Ron ventured down to the Chamber of Secrets. Without the sword of Gryffindor, they would need any Horcrux killing object available.

* * *

The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was dark and scattered with stars, and below it the four long house tables were lined with dishevelled students, some in travelling cloaks, others in dressing gowns. Here and there shone the pearly-white figures of the school ghosts.

Every eye, living and dead, was fixed upon Professor McGonagall, who was speaking from the raised platform at the top of the Hall. Behind her stood the remaining teachers, including Firenze and members of the Order of the Phoenix who had arrived to fight.

“… evacuation will be overseen by Mr Filch and Madam Pomfrey. Prefects, when I give the word, you will organise your house and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point.”

Many of the young witches and wizards looked petrified. However, as Hermione scanned the walls, Ernie Macmillan stood up at the Hufflepuff table and shouted, “and what if we want to stay and fight?”

There was a smattering of applause.

“If you are of age, you may stay,” said Professor McGonagall. “The important thing is to get anyone else out of here safely.”

The quiet murmur of scared students filled the Hall. The youngest were being shepherded together whilst older ones stood in small groups, deciding their fate.

“We have already placed protection around the castle,” Professor McGonagall was saying, “but it it unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly, and do as your prefects –”

Her final words were drowned out as a different voice echoed throughout the Hall. It was high, cold and clear: there was no telling from where it came, it seemed to issue from the walls themselves. Like the monster it had one commanded, it might have lain dormant there for centuries.

“I know that you are preparing to fight.” There were screams amongst the students, some of whom clutched each other, looking around in terror for the source of the sound. “Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood.”

There was silence in the Hall now, the kind of silence that presses against the eardrums, that seems too huge to be contained by walls.

“Give me Harry Potter,” said Voldemort’s voice, “and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight.”

The silence swallowed them all again. Every head turned, every eye in the place seemed to have found Harry, to hold him frozen in the glare of thousands of invisible beams.

Then a figure rose from the Slytherin table. Pansy Parkinson raised a shaking arm and screamed, “but he’s there! Potter’s _there!_ Someone grab him!”

There was suddenly a massive movement. Hermione, along with the rest of the Gryffindors, had risen and stood facing the Slytherins. Then the Hufflepuffs stood and, almost at the same moment, the Ravenclaws. All of them with their backs to Harry, all of them looking towards Pansy instead.

“Thank you, Miss Parkinson,” said Professor McGonagall in a clipped voice. “You will leave the Hall first with Mr Filch. If the rest of your house could follow.”

Slowly, the room emptied. The Slytherin table was completely deserted, but a number of older Ravenclaws remained seated while their fellows filed out. Even more Hufflepuffs stayed behind, and half of Gryffindor remained in their seats.

Kingsley stepped forwards on the raised platform to discuss strategy with those who had remained behind.

The battle had begun.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for all your lovely reviews and comments – you have no idea how much I appreciate it <3

Hermione and Ron stood in the Great Hall panting heavily as Harry skidded around a corner towards them.

“Where have you _been_?”

“We’re another Horcrux down!” Ron beamed. “Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn’t had the pleasure yet.”

“Brilliant!” yelled Harry.

As he said it, there was an explosion from overhead; all three of them looked up as dust fell from the ceiling and they heard a distant scream.

“I know what the diadem looks like, and I know where it is,” said Harry, talking fast. “He hid it exactly where I hid my old Potions book, where everyone’s been hiding stuff for centuries. He thought he was the only one to find it. Come on.”

* * *

The furore of the battle died the moment they crossed the threshold of the Room of Requirement and closed the door behind them: all was silent. They were in a place the size of a cathedral with the appearance of a city, its towering walls built of objects hidden by thousands of long-gone students.

They passed a stuffed troll and the Vanishing Cabinet Draco had mended last year with such disastrous consequences. Looking up and down aisles of junk, Harry couldn’t remember where to go next.

“ _Accio diadem_ ,” cried Hermione in desperation, nothing flew through the air towards them. It seemed that, like the vault at Gringotts, the room would not yield its hidden objects that easily.

The trio separated and sped off up adjacent aisles. Deeper and deeper into the labyrinth Hermione went. Her breath was loud in her ears, but she found nothing resembling the item they sought.

Rifling through weathered old cupboards and shelves, Hermione froze. She heard a voice so engrained into her consciousness it could have been her own.

“That’s my wand you’re holding, Potter,” said Draco.

“How did you get in here?” Harry asked, ignoring the comment.

“I virtually lived in the Room of Hidden Things all last year,” he drawled. “I know how to get inside.”

Another voice grunted, “we was hiding in the corridor outside.” Hermione thought it might be either Crabbe or Goyle. “We can do Diss-lusion Charms now! And then you turned up right in front of us and said you was looking for die-dum. What’s a die-dum?”

“Harry?” Ron’s voice echoed suddenly from the other side of the room. “Are you talking to someone?”

With a whip-like movement, one of Draco’s companions pointed their wand at the fifty-foot mountain of old furniture and shouted, “ _Descendo!_ ”

The wall began to totter, then crumbled into the aisle near to where she assumed Ron was standing.

“Ron!” Harry bellowed as, somewhere out of sight, Hermione screamed, and innumerable objects crashed to the floor. “ _Finite!_ ” he yelled, pointing his wand at the rampart.

“Harry?” Ron called again. “What’s going on?”

Hermione had crept around the corner and could see the confrontation more clearly.

“Harry?” mimicked Crabbe. “What’s going – _no_ , Potter! _Crucio!_ ”

Harry had lunged for the tiara; Crabbe’s curse missed him but hit a stone bust, which flew into the air; the diadem soared upwards and then dropped out of sight in the mass of objects on which the bust had rested.

“STOP!” Draco shouted at Crabbe, his voice echoing through the enormous room. “The Dark Lord wants him alive – ”

A flash of scarlet light shot past Harry by inches; Hermione ran towards him and sent a Stunning Spell straight at Crabbe’s head. It only missed because Draco pulled him out of the way, eyes widening as he saw her.

“It’s that Mudblood!” Goyle yelled. “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

Hermione dove aside and Harry flung a red jet towards Goyle who lurched to left, knocking Draco’s wand out of his hand; it rolled out of sight beneath a mountain of broken furniture and boxes.

“Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!” Draco screamed at Crabbe and Goyle as he raced around a corner, disappearing from view.

Taking advantage of their split second’s hesitation, Harry roared, “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Goyle’s wand flew out of his hand and fell into the bulwark of objects beside him.

Hermione was about to re-join the battle when a strong arm pulled her backwards. She spun around and shoved her wand into the intruder’s throat.

“It’s me,” a voice gasped. “It’s me.”

She didn’t need him to tell her that. “What the _hell_ do you want?”

Draco wasted no time, “you have to get _out_ of here, Granger.” He held her tightly and began dragging her away from the ongoing fight between Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle.

“Don’t _touch_ me, Malfoy,” she spat angrily and wrenched herself out of his grip.

Pain flashed across his features so quickly that Hermione almost missed it, but then there was anger blazing in his eyes instead. “You’re not wearing your ring,” he growled.

She looked at him in disbelief as an anxious peal of laughter escaped her throat. “That’s what you’ve decided is the most pressing concern right now?”

Suddenly glimpsing a flash of green light, she dragged herself away from Draco and thundered towards it. “HARRY!” she yelled.

Goyle had shot the Killing Curse and as Hermione whirled around, she hit him with another Stunning Spell.

A roaring, billowing noise suddenly erupted behind them. Turning, they saw both Ron and Crabbe running as hard as they could up the aisle. The latter seemed to have no control over what he had done. Flames of abnormal sizes were pursuing them, licking up the sides of the junk bulwarks, which were crumbling to soot at their touch.

She heard someone cry, “RUN!”

Draco grabbed the Stunned Goyle and dragged him along. Crabbe outstripped them all, now looking terrified; Hermione, Harry, and Ron pelted along in his wake, and the fire pursued them. It was not normal fire. Crabbe had used a curse of which Hermione had only read about once before.

“What can we do?” she screamed.

Harry seized a pair of heavy-looking broomsticks from one of the nearest piles of junk and threw one to Ron, who pulled Hermione on to it behind him. With hard kicks to the ground, they soared up into the air.

She searched desperately for Draco before catching Harry’s eye, pleading silently with him. He nodded once and swooped as low as he dared over the scorching flames to try and find the Slytherins; he could see nothing but fire.

A wretched scream arose suddenly from amidst the terrible commotion.

“It’s – too – dangerous – !” Ron gasped, hardly able to breathe, but Harry wheeled around in the air and dove down to where Draco and Goyle were huddled precariously. Hermione nudged Ron forwards and he too plummeted through the billowing black smoke.

She reached for Draco and dragged him onto the back of their broom, he held himself so tightly against her that it was almost painful. Ron steered them towards a rectangular patch on the wall and, moments later, clean air filled their lungs as they crash landed onto the stone floor. Harry, with an unconscious Goyle, followed close behind.

Despite a hacking cough, Draco leapt up and fell to his knees in front of Hermione. He ran his eyes carefully over her to make sure she wasn’t injured and wrapped himself around her. She froze: it had been such a long time and so much had happened, she didn’t know how to respond.

A second before her brain kicked back into gear, he had been hauled away from her. Ron stood facing Draco looking incandescent with rage, his face a deep purple. “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing, Malfoy?”

Draco took a step towards Ron, hand twitching against where his wand ought to be, but Harry pushed quickly between them. “We don’t have time for this,” he said angrily.

Nodding slightly, although clearly unimpressed, Draco moved away and asked, “Crabbe?”

“He’s dead,” Ron replied harshly.

There was brief silence before the unmistakable sounds of duelling filled the corridor. Hermione looked around and her heart faltered: Death Eaters had penetrated Hogwarts.

Fred and Percy backed into view, both of them battling against masked and hooded men. As Harry and Ron raced to help them, Hermione turned quickly to Draco. “Run,” she said fiercely. “Take Goyle with you, you can’t be seen with us.”

The torment that gripped him was painful to witness but, after a moment, he did as she asked. Turning away, Hermione wondered whether it would be the last time she saw him.


	6. Chapter 6

Voldemort’s voice reverberated around the Shrieking Shack as Hermione stared, transfixed, down at Harry who was kneeling beside Snape’s lifeless body.

“You have fought valiantly,” said the high, cold voice. “Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.”

Hermione shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.”

Both Hermione and Ron shook their heads frantically, looking at Harry.

“It’ll be alright,” said Hermione wildly. “Let’s – let’s get back to the castle, if he’s gone to the Forest we’ll need to think of a new plan – ”

She glanced again at Snape, fear burning ice cold in her veins, and then hurried back to the tunnel entrance with Harry and Ron.

Small bundles seemed to litter the lawn at the front of the castle. It could only be an hour or so from dawn, yet it was pitch black. The three of them walked quickly towards the stone steps.

The castle was unnaturally silent. There were no flashes of light now, no bangs or screams or shouts. The flagstones of the deserted Entrance Hall were stained with blood.

“Where is everyone?” whispered Hermione.

Ron led the way to the Great Hall. The House tables were gone and the room was crowded. Survivors stood in groups, their arms around each other’s necks. The injured were being treated up on a raised platform by Madam Pomfrey and a group of helpers.

The dead lay in a row in the middle of the Hall. Hermione could see the Weasleys stood tightly together. George was kneeling beside Fred and Mrs Weasley was lying across his chest, her body shaking. Mr Weasley stroked her hair while tears cascaded down his cheeks.

Hermione approached Ginny, whose face was swollen and blotchy, and hugged her tightly. As Bill, Fleur, and Percy moved to the side, she had a clear view of the bodies lying next to Fred: Remus and Tonks, pale and still and peaceful looking, apparently asleep beneath the dark, enchanted ceiling.

The familiar feeling of nausea rose within her but she remained stoic. This moment wasn’t about her, and she had to remain strong for everyone else.

When she eventually turned around, Harry was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Hermione realised almost immediately where Harry had gone and, to some extent, understood why he had done it. She couldn’t help but wonder at the similarities between his departure and Draco’s the year prior. Both were doing what they thought best for those around them, and neither could tolerate saying goodbye.

Regardless, this comprehension couldn't eliminate the intense grief that surged through her upon seeing Hagrid walk towards the castle, Harry cradled within his arms.

Voldemort’s voice swelled across the grounds and infiltrated her mind. “Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.”

She stared rigidly ahead and, as numbness overwhelmed her, no tears bled from her eyes.

“The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family.”

“NO!” a voice screamed. Hermione wasn’t sure whether it was torn from her own throat or someone else’s.

Neville suddenly broke free from the crowd and charged at Voldemort. He was instantly Disarmed and hit the ground.

The boy stood slowly and stared directly into Voldemort’s slit-like eyes. In one swift, fluid motion, Neville drew the sword of Gryffindor from behind his back and sliced off Nagini’s head.

Voldemort’s mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear as the snake’s body thudded to the ground at his feet.

Hermione spun swiftly around as she heard Hagrid yell, “WHERE’S HARRY?”

Chaos reigned.

* * *

Staring into the circle that had contained the battle between Harry and Voldemort, Hermione found herself unable to move. The monster that had haunted their lives for so many years was… dead?

One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended, and then the tumult broke as screams and cheers of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered towards Harry; the first to reach him were, of course, Hermione and Ron.

Then Ginny, Neville, and Luna were there, and then all the Weasleys and Hagrid, and Kingsley, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout. Hermione couldn’t hear a word that anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands were pressing against her, determined to touch the Boy Who Lived, the reason it was over at last.

It took a long while but, eventually, she, Harry, and Ron were able to extricate themselves from the crowd. As they walked along the aisles between tables, she noticed Draco and his parents huddled together as though unsure whether or not they were supposed to be there.

She looked to catch Draco’s eye, but it was Narcissa who saw her first; her intelligent eyes sparkled and she gave Hermione a secretive smile.

* * *

Hermione, Harry, and Ron left the Great Hall. Enormous chunks were missing from the marble staircase, part of the balustrade gone. Rubble and bloodstains occurred every few steps as they climbed.

Happiness would come, Hermione thought, but the current moment was muffled by exhaustion, and the pain of losing Fred, Lupin, and Tonks pierced her like a physical wound every few steps.

As they walked, Harry painstakingly recounted what he had seen in the Pensive and what had happened in the Forest. She could hardly believe it.

Without knowing their destination, the trio reached the Headmaster’s study. Harry pushed open the door at the top of the staircase and they heard applause. The Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts were giving her best friend the standing ovation he so desperately deserved.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the eighth year at Hogwarts! I can't believe we're finally here. I'm really looking forward to being able to get some of Draco's POV of the last year across.
> 
> If there's anything you'd love (or hate) to read, let me know and I'll see what I can do...!

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open as she slowly took in her surroundings. It had been three months since the Battle of Hogwarts and only recently had she stopped waking up in a cold sweat, heart pounding. Now, she could even escape the nightmares, as long as she didn’t sleep alone.

Most nights Hermione would find herself padding silently to Harry’s room and he would automatically curl himself around her. She knew it was putting a strain on his and Ginny’s newly blossoming relationship, but she didn’t know how else to cope. It was difficult going to Ron, she knew he still harboured feelings towards her, and she didn’t want to confuse things further.

The three of them, along with Ginny visiting during the day, had been living together at Grimmauld Place all summer, and it had finally started to feel like a home. Hermione found that the physical exertion involved in renovating the old townhouse helped relieve the constant adrenaline swirling around her body. She distracted herself with cleaning, painting, moving furniture; anything that would prevent her from thinking too deeply.

It was with Harry’s arms around her that she awoke this particular morning, but something was different. He was already awake and looking at her, his brows furrowed with concern.

“What is it?” she mumbled, voice heavy with sleep.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he replied, tightening his grip on her.

“Okay?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for some time, but I’ve just received an owl,” Harry waved his arm in a vague gesture towards the window, “and I have to make my decision.”

Hermione shifted apprehensively, “you’re worrying me now.”

“It’s about the trial,” he said, and she froze. “I know, I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t have to mention anything but, well, I’d like to testify on behalf of Malfoy and his mother.”

Her heart beat erratically at the mention of his name. After Harry and Ron had been accepted onto the Auror training programme, they had kept her up to date on the comings and goings at the Ministry. The Death Eater trials were running surprisingly smoothly, with the majority of sentences involving lengthy stays in Azkaban and generous repatriation donations.

There was one trial, set for a weeks’ time, that was highly anticipated by the Wizarding community: Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy. Due to their high profile, many wanted them to suffer more harshly than any other.

Trying to sound indifferent, she shrugged, “he might be a prat, but that doesn’t mean he deserves Azkaban.”

Hermione could feel Harry visibly relax and he smiled at her, “thank you, I know this isn’t easy for you... I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell them that he refused to identify us at the Manor. That his mother pretended I was dead.”

“I know,” she said softly.

“How are you feeling about -” Harry hesitated, “everything?”

Hermione sighed, it was a difficult question. She wasn't entirely sure _how_ she felt, or what haunted her the most. The violence and torture she had been both witness to and personally experienced was certainly at the forefront of her mind. Equally, she had little respite from the painful emotions surrounding her Obliviated parents and her relationship with Draco.

The times when she ended up alone with her thoughts were the worst. It was this, in part, that had encouraged Hermione to accept her place in the newly created eighth year at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall, now Headmistress, had penned letters to every student in her year offering the chance to complete their N.E.W.T.s.

In the end she said to him, “I’m coping.”

Harry nodded. If anyone understood, it was him; she knew he struggled with his own nightmares. Knew he found it difficult to relax and had grown used to the constant fear and anxiety. She wasn’t sure whether he really wanted to be an Auror, or if it was a coping mechanism of his own.

The war had broken them all in different ways.

* * *

On the day of the Malfoy trial, Hermione told herself that Draco wouldn’t want her to attend but, truly, she couldn’t face it. She didn’t know how she felt about him and the likelihood of an emotional breakdown during such an important event was too much to risk. 

However, before Harry could leave Grimmauld Place, she raced down the stairs and caught the sleeve of his robes.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Slightly out of breath she replied, “no, but I couldn’t let you leave without… without saying something.” She handed him a piece of parchment. “It might help with the testimony.”

“Thank you,” Harry said softly as he gripped her tightly to his chest.

When he arrived back that evening, Hermione was close to tearing her hair out with anxiety. She all but leapt upon him when he walked through the door, tiredly hanging his robes up.

“What happened?” she questioned, no time for pleasantries.

He shook his head, “let me get a drink first, at least.”

Conjuring two Firewhiskeys, she led him downstairs to the kitchen.

Harry was silent for a long time, taking slow sips from his glass. “It was hard, the Wizengamot’s questioning was relentless” he said, finally. “Hermione, he didn’t look good.”

She felt sick, guilt furled its way around her stomach. “Just tell me, please.”

“Lucius has been sentenced to twenty years in Azkaban and a lifetime parole to follow; Narcissa is under house arrest for seven years; and, Draco – ” he looked at her, confirming she was ready. “He’s to serve a years’ probation at Hogwarts, completing his final year. They’ll make their final decision after that.”

“I guess… I guess it’s the best we could hope for?” she whispered.

Harry nodded. “There was an uproar. I think it was our two testimony’s that swayed the decision.”

“Ron wasn’t there?” Hermione asked, confused.

Yet another pause, people were always careful around her these days. “No,” Harry said. “He changed his mind. You know he doesn’t forgive easily.”

“I know.”

“So, you and Malfoy, at Hogwarts together this year…”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for the clichéd scenario in the second half of the chapter. I couldn't help myself and have no regrets ;)

Hermione walked hesitantly along the Hogwarts Express. Her hands trembled slightly with nerves as she approached the newly dedicated eighth year carriage. Harry and Ron had just seen her and Ginny off at Platform 9¾ and it had been an emotional separation. Hermione clung to their shoulders as they hugged, wishing they were coming with her.

Heart pounding mercilessly in her chest, she slid the compartment door open and every head whipped around to stare at the newcomer. In a moment of panic she raised her hand and wiggled it in an awkward wave.

A delicate snort drew her attention to the left, where four Slytherins were sat. Her gaze caught on Draco and she couldn’t tear herself away from his storm grey eyes. He looked tired, but healthier than she had seen him for a long time. The corner of his mouth crept up into a small smile and she forgot how to breathe.

Taking a step backwards, she fell into Neville who had leapt up to greet her. She turned swiftly and let him lead her over to where he and Parvati were sitting.

“I’m so pleased you’re here, Hermione,” Neville grinned. “We thought there would only be two Gryffindor representatives for a while!”

Hermione glanced around to take note of her peers, there were just twelve in total: Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, and Megan Jones from Hufflepuff; Michael Corner and Lisa Turpin from Ravenclaw; Draco, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin; herself, Neville, and Parvati from Gryffindor.

“Not many of us chose to come back,” Parvati commented quietly.

“Padma?”

Parvati shook her head. “She couldn’t face it, opted for distance learning through Owl Post instead.”

The train hadn’t been moving for long before Professor McGonagall swept into the carriage, clasping her hands together as she addressed them. “I know it's unusual for you to see me here, but I wanted to take a moment before arrival to welcome every single one of you.

“I can appreciate that settling back into life at Hogwarts might be a challenge, given what you have all been through this past year,” the Headmistress looked at each of them in turn, grief filling her eyes. “We have decided, therefore, to unite you all into one house for your final year.”

McGonagall paused, taking in their shocked expressions, before continuing, “this means you will be sharing a common room, as well as a table in the Great Hall. Of course, you might choose to sit with others for meals, that is your choice. Inter-House unity is something we would like to encourage between all students, and you twelve will be crucial to its success.

“When we arrive this evening, I recommend you head straight to your new common room and settle in. Get to know each other while I let the rest of the school know about the changes. We’ll all look forward to seeing you in the morning.”

As McGonagall left the carriage, Hermione, Neville, and Parvati exchanged looks. It was going to be an interesting year.

* * *

The eighth-year common room was cosy and peaceful. The colour palate included elements of all House colours but they were toned down and interspersed with neutral hues. One side of the room was dedicated to studying and housed a long wooden table and chairs placed in front of ornate bookshelves. The other side presented the students with numerous comfy sofas and armchairs laid out in a semi-circle before a red brick fireplace. To the centre of the back wall stood a small staircase that led to bedrooms and bathrooms.

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the group as no one was entirely certain about how to begin their journey towards ‘ _Inter-House Unity’_.

“Right,” said Blaise, stepping to the front of the crowd. “This is incredibly awkward and the only thing I can think of to ease our collective pain is to play Truth or Dare, get ragingly drunk, and completely embarrass ourselves. Who’s up for it?”

The silence extended and Blaise widened his eyes pleadingly.

“Fine!” snapped Pansy, moving towards the sofas. “I’ll play, but you owe me.”

Encouraged by this, the rest of the students shuffled in the same direction.

Hermione would rather have eaten Flobberworms for the rest of her life than play Truth or Dare, particularly with Draco in the room, but she was loath to alienate herself from the group so early on. She did, however, sit purposefully as far away from the tall blonde as possible, which placed her next to a different Slytherin boy.

Settling herself on the comfortable two-seater, Hermione said, “hi, you’re Theodore Nott, right?”

“Please, call me Theo, Hermione,” he replied with a smile.

She had never really noticed Theo before. She supposed Draco was the only person she had ever really found attractive. Theo was objectively very handsome. He had high cheekbones, long eyelashes, and a strong jawline; all of which was framed by smooth dark brown hair, carefully shaped into a sweeping fringe across his forehead.

Quickly realising she was staring, Hermione blushed and turned back towards the group who were devising ground rules. Theo leant forward with her and their shoulders brushed. She caught Draco staring, his eyes ablaze, and she decided not to pull her arm away.

“Okay, we have reached a consensus!” Blaise announced. “We’re now going to be playing Truth or Truth – ”

Pansy cut him off with a smirk, “because, let’s be honest, that’s all we’re really interested in.”

“Thank you, Pansy,” he conceded. “Also, the Gryffindors have requested we add Veritaserum to the Firewhiskey bottle. Apparently, we’re going to have to work on our inter-House _trust_.”

Hermione was now close to bolting. She did _not_ want to answer questions under duress of Veritaserum.

Theo pushed gently against her and murmured, “you okay?”

“Just not a fan of the truth potion aspect.”

“It’ll be alright,” he promised. “We’re all in it together.”

Hermione gave him a small smile as Parvati passed her a glass.

Blaise clapped, “right then, down this first drink and we’ll get started.”

The questions started off fairly neutral but then, as the alcohol flowed, became increasingly risqué. Hermione attempted to keep them all on track (“ _what made you decide to come back for eighth year?_ ”), however this was met by resistance and groans.

“So,” said Parvati, “who do you fancy most in this room?”

Working around the group anti-clockwise, the answers flowed easily. To her surprise, Theo said, blushing furiously, “Hermione.” She suppressed a burn of jealously each time someone said Draco, who answered without hesitation: “Hermione.” Everyone eyed him curiously, but he only shrugged.

“Granger?” Draco prompted with an amused look.

She smiled brightly at him; in this exact moment, with her frustration so close to the surface, she could just about truthfully say it was not him. “Theo.”

“Bad luck, Draco mate,” Blaise laughed.

Draco frowned imperceptibly and his posture stiffened.

It was Pansy’s turn next, “how many people have you kissed?”

Hermione’s leg bounced anxiously as the responses flowed in, ranging from none to a surprising seventeen. When everyone looked at her expectantly and she answered, “two,” she could have sworn she felt heat radiate from Draco.

His eyes never left hers as he ground out. “ _W_ _ho_ have you kissed?”

The tension between them was palpable but, thanks to the Firewhiskey, most of the group remained oblivious, busy gossiping about the various kiss scenarios.

“Ron,” Hermione muttered.

Ernie began to ask another question when Draco interrupted him, “Granger, you said you had kissed _two_ people, who was the other?”

Anger bubbled up inside her. How _dare_ he do this in front of everyone.

She clenched her jaw tightly. “Malfoy.”

Laughter and surprised gasps filled the room. The game had been abruptly disbanded in favour of watching the scene unfold in front of them.

“ _What!_ ” cried Pansy, eyes round in shock. “When?”

Although the Veritaserum meant Draco had no choice but to reply, he looked entirely too pleased with himself as he said, “many times between – correct me if I’m wrong, Granger – fourth and sixth year.”

Hermione’s face burnt with a mixture of rage and embarrassment.

“So many things are starting to make sense now,” Pansy mused at the same time as Blaise commented, “we all thought you were gay, mate.”

Draco smirked, “clearly not.”

She’d had enough. Hermione stood up and shot an apologetic glance around the group before storming towards her bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

_Bellatrix cackled with delight as she dragged the blade across Hermione’s skin, causing dark beads of blood to flow from the wounds like tears. Greyback sharpened his claws on the stone floor, slowly raking deep grooves through the red pools surrounding her._

_“No one is coming to find you, Mudblood.”_

Hermione woke with a start, sitting bolt upright. A thin layer of sweat coated her skin and she gasped desperately for breath.

“Hermione!” a distant voice called.

Shaking her head, she grasped blindly for her wand. Why hadn’t she woken up? Hands were suddenly gripping her shoulders and she screamed, frantically trying to get away.

The voice seemed familiar this time. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” it said soothingly. “It’s just me.”

She blinked rapidly, desperately trying to clear the fog from her mind.

“You were having a nightmare, it’s okay, I’ve got you, take some deep breaths.”

The bed dipped and warmth enveloped her as Draco pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms securely around her body.

“What are you doing here?” she croaked.

“I’m sorry, I just – I heard you screaming, I had to see if you were okay.”

Rubbing her eyes she realised that, in her anger, she must have forgotten to use locking and silencing charms.

“I don’t sleep properly anymore,” she admitted quietly. “Not unless there’s someone with me.”

“I know how you feel,” he said, shifting behind her. “What was it about?”

Hermione unconsciously moved her hand toward the letters etched into her arm, fingers brushing gently against them. “The Manor.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered, pulling her closer. “I’m so sorry.”

“But you found me,” she murmured sleepily, her breath growing slower.

* * *

This time, she awoke peacefully as pale sunlight began creeping into the room. She was cocooned protectively within two warm muscular arms and the scent that wound around her felt like home.

Then, stiffening suddenly, she remembered the previous night. This wasn’t a dream; he was really there. It was too much, too soon, and she needed him gone.

“Draco,” she hissed.

Stirring, he groaned and curled them more tightly together. Hermione pushed herself away and stood abruptly to the side of the bed. She repeated his name, louder this time, and threw a pillow at his head.

The noise he made didn’t sound entirely human, but at least he was awake.

“You have to get out,” she told him, arms folded across her chest.

“No, Granger,” Draco growled, pressing his temples tiredly. “We need to talk about – about everything.”

It had not yet been twenty-four hours since her arrival at Hogwarts and she could already feel her anger rising again: it was too early and she needed coffee.

“ _What_ do we have to talk about, _Malfoy_? Where do we even begin?”

“You kissing fucking _Weasley_?” he ground out.

“ _That’s_ where you want to start?” Hermione cried, staring at him incredulously. “In the grand scheme of things I’m fairly certain that rates pretty low down our combined list of sins.”

“You said _always_ , you said you would _always_ be _mine_.”

“Oh, I am _so_ sorry,” she said derisively. “I didn’t realise _always_ included me being wordlessly abandoned so you could attempt to murder our Headmaster and also being tortured on the floor of your home whilst you stood back and did _nothing_.”

Hermione looked at him as he moved to stand opposite her. His expression appeared detached but she knew him well enough, even after all this time, to see he was barely holding it together. His eyes were nearly black and his jaw tightly clenched.

“Don’t you think I _know_ that?” Draco exploded. “It haunts me every fucking day.”

“How could you just watch?” she asked, unsure whether she truly wanted the know.

Draco thought back to the moment he found out that Hermione had been dragged into the Manor.

_“They think they’ve got Potter,” he heard his mother say before she called him over to examine three dishevelled figures tied together by the door._

_Adrenaline coursed through him and he stared at her in horror. “No…” he whispered._

_Narcissa eyes flashed and she nodded grimly. With each step his stomach tightened, nausea threatening to overcome him._

_“Well, boy?” rasped Greyback._

_Draco’s heart ached as he took in Hermione’s appearance. She had lost a lot of weight, her clothes hung off her, and dark circles framed her eyes. Blood trickled from her lip where someone must have hit her. He struggled to contain the rage inside him._

_“Draco?” his father prompted. “It is Harry Potter?”_

_He turned to the boy on her left. His face was huge, shiny and pink, every feature distorted. What the hell had happened?_

_“I can’t – I can’t be sure,” Draco lied. He knew he had to play this carefully, but his mind was racing too fast. All he could think about was how to grab Hermione and get her as far away from this place as possible._

_“But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!” he had never heard Lucius sound so excited. “If we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv – ”_

_He struggled to concentrate on the rest of the conversation. Fear was wreaking havoc on his body._

_“Draco, look properly! What do you think?”_

_He couldn’t bear it anymore, he needed time to think, to plan. “I don’t know,” he replied, and walked away towards the fireplace where his mother stood watching._

_Narcissa’s hand grazed Draco’s shoulder as she said, “we had better be certain, Lucius. Completely sure that it is Potter before we summon the Dark Lord.”_

_“What about the Mudblood, then?” growled Greyback._

_Draco whipped around, his heart plummeting. He couldn’t think straight._

_“Look, isn’t it the Granger girl?” Lucius asked_

_He wasn’t paying attention and the words escaped from his mouth before he could contemplate their meaning, “I… maybe… yeah.”_

_Oh god, what had he done. He’d needed to remain nonchalant, but his response was almost a positive identification. How was he going to get her out of this?_

_When Bellatrix swept into the room, her black eyes darting from face to face, he was only just able to suppress a shudder. She began shrieking and yelling, giving orders, and waving her wand erratically._

_“Take the prisoners down to the cellar,” Bellatrix snarled. “All except… except for the Mudblood.”_

_Fuck._

_Weasley screamed out for her as he and Potter were dragged away, and Hermione pushed to the centre of the room._

_Draco could see her frantically searching for him and then relax imperceptibly when they locked eyes. This was it. Although the wards prevented him from Disapparating her from the Manor, he could Apparate them to his room. From there they would have to be quick, but he could dismantle them enough to get out._

_He knew his parents might never forgive him, but his actions wouldn’t put them in any additional danger. Although his aunt was mad, she wouldn't hand them over to the Dark Lord._ _No one need know that Hermione was ever there._

 _Draco took a step forwards the moment Bellatrix pinned Hermione to the ground but, before he could act, he_ _saw his mother’s wand hand flick almost imperceptibly. His muscles began to tighten until he was locked in place, paralysed by a Freezing Charm._

_Whilst his exterior was the definition of indifference, as Hermione began screaming, he screamed with her. He thrashed and yelled inside his head until his throat was raw. It was pain like he had never experienced before: watching her being tortured and yet powerless to stop it._

_He had left her at Hogwarts to protect her, how had things gone so badly wrong?_

_Draco couldn’t fight his mother’s spell, she was too strong, so he used the only skill he had left to him, Legilimency. Conjuring up the six years of memories between them, he gently slipped them into her mind, desperately hoping the images might provide some semblance of relief._

_When Potter and Weasley finally came pounding back into the drawing room, his mother relinquished her hold over him and it was all he could do not to collapse to the floor. His vision flickered in and out as he trembled with exhaustion._

“And, well, you know what happened from there,” he finished.

Hermione’s eyes swam with tears. “I remember,” she whispered. “Every time I looked at you it was like my head suddenly filled with happy thoughts; I could see us so clearly.”

“It was the only thing I could do,” Draco said, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

She moved hesitantly towards him and held his hand, lacing their fingers together tentatively as though they were third years again. “It was more than I could have asked for, Draco. Your plan – it was too risky.” She was silent for a moment, before continuing, “I was angry when I thought you’d done nothing, but really when I think about it, I’d rather it were me being hurt than you. I wouldn’t have wanted to risk you.”

He shook his head, “you’re more important than me.”

“That’s not – ”

Hermione was cut off as a small knock sounded from her door. “Hello?” she called out.

“It’s Theo,” came the reply and Draco stiffened. “Just wondered if you were coming to breakfast?”

Looking sheepishly over her shoulder, she replied, “oh, yes, yep, I’ll be down in a second.”

“Great, I’ll wait for you in the common room."

She could have sworn she heard a low growl escape Draco's throat as Theo's footsteps faded away.


	10. Chapter 10

Draco was... somewhat displeased that Hermione walked down to the Great Hall without him that morning. Their shared night had left her conflicted and struggling to manage the confusing emotions that had arisen.

She tried desperately to pay attention to Theo as they left the eighth year common room, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what Draco had told her. Whilst his perspective of her capture at the Manor had been absolutely devastating, Hermione was surprised at how difficult she found it to consolidate this with her own experience.

There was a huge part of her that wished she could simply dismiss everything she had felt for the last year and throw herself into Draco’s arms, revel in their warmth, but at the moment that wasn’t possible: too much had happened, she needed more time.

Hermione and Theo found their way to the new table for breakfast. Despite the uncomfortable altercation between her and Draco the night previously, Blaise’s plan to get drunk and play a game had actually done its job. Everyone was sat next to someone of a different House and interacting amicably.

Hermione was comfortable with almost all of her new peers, bar one. She’d had little to do with Pansy so far, but each glance in the (former) Slytherins direction took her back to their last moment together in the Great Hall: “ _But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!_ ”

Pansy had initially looked as though she might sit next to Hermione, grinning wickedly in her direction, but Ernie quickly took the place she coveted. There was something bizarre about people _wanting_ to sit next to her. Harry and Ron had always been there, but no one else had chosen her. She ignored the small voice that told her otherwise.

Professor McGonagall walked over to the eighth years, surprised at how well they appeared to be getting along, and handed out their new timetables. There were certain classes which would include only these students, but they would mostly be mixed with the year below. 

Hermione was in the process of memorising her week when the familiar flapping of wings filled the Hall. Feathery blurs swept across the pale blue enchanted ceiling, as soft hoots resonated around the walls.

A small barn owl landed gracefully bedside Hermione’s plate and dropped an envelope for her. Immediately recognising the neat handwriting, she clutched the paper tightly in one hand whilst giving the owl a piece of bacon with the other.

Quietly packing up her things, she stood and quickly left the Great Hall before anyone could ask where she was going. After so many years in the school, many of which involving disappearing with Draco, she knew the best spots for someone looking to remain hidden.

Seating herself in such an alcove opposite the room of her first class, Hermione carefully opened the envelope and read the short note.

-

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_My apologies for the delay in getting back to you. Unfortunately, I have limited new information to share._

_As you are aware, I met with your parents last month to assess their situation. We have begun a cordial friendship and I hope to commence Stage 1 of the memory retrieval process in the coming weeks._

_I will write again as soon as I have additional news._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Patrick Jennings_

-

Hermione’s eyes burned but she refused to cry. Although it wasn’t the news she hoped for, it also wasn’t entirely unexpected. She had known when she Obliviated her parents that it would be challenging, perhaps impossible, to reverse the process and so she had to accept the consequences.

It was Harry who introduced her to Patrick through his connections in the Ministry. Whilst he had never attempted such a complex procedure, he was enthusiastic and she supposed that would have to do. Those who specialised in memory reversal and had years of experience cost significantly more money than she would ever be able to afford.

Footsteps suddenly echoed down the corridor and Hermione got swiftly to her feet, hoping no one noticed the slight flush to her cheeks. 

She was pleased that it was Ginny she saw racing towards her. Charms was one of their shared subjects, and Hermione felt a sense of calm overcome her that only happened when she was in the company a few certain individuals.

“How was your first night back?” Ginny asked.

“Oh yes, fine,” Hermione replied quickly. “How was yours?”

Ginny looked at her suspiciously. “I’m having flashbacks to the Yule Ball. When you wouldn’t tell me who you _really_ wanted to go with.”

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure why she still hadn’t confided in Ginny about her relationship with Draco. At first it was because of Ron: she didn’t want to put her friend in the position of having to lie to her own brother, and then it had just started to feel too awkward. Now though, she found herself craving the brutally honest opinions that only Ginny could provide.

“Shall we catch up later?” Hermione suggested.

Ginny beamed. “Meet in the Entrance Hall after dinner? We could go to the Three Broomsticks?”

Whilst the eighth years were permitted to visit Hogsmeade at any time, this wasn’t the case for the other students. Hermione almost admonished Ginny’s idea before deciding to keep her mouth shut and nodding instead. She could do with a drink.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BootsBootsBoots, can you find where I took inspiration from one of your comments?!

The rest of the day went quickly, and it felt like no time had passed before Hermione walked into the Three Broomsticks with Ginny that evening. It wasn’t particularly busy, but the flickering orange hearth and floating candles illuminated the room to create a warm and homely atmosphere.

Although they couldn’t see any teachers present, the two girls chose to sit in a corner towards the back of the pub. This location had the added benefit of Hermione being able to sneak them Firewhiskey without too much difficulty.

Setting down the drinks, Ginny’s eyes widened slightly. “Are we expecting more people?” she teased.

“It’s energy saving,” Hermione glowered as she downed the first glass in one gulp, wincing slightly as her throat burned. “We won’t need to get out of our seats as much.”

Ginny nudged her. “Come on then, what’s going on?”

Looking down at the table, she sighed. “You promise not to hate me?”

The redhead rolled her eyes and gestured for Hermione to continue.

“Well, you know Draco Malfoy?”

“Yes, Hermione, I know Draco Malfoy.”

“Good, yes,” she said, nodding as though this might not have been the case. “So, you see,” there was another pause as she started on her second drink, “I know him too. Well. I know him well.”

“You know him well,” Ginny repeated. “How… well?”

“Very?”

“Hermione Jean Granger!” her friend shrieked. “Tell me _everything_.”

And so, she did. Hermione told Ginny a story of friendship and falling out, love and hurt, first times and possibly last times. Whilst it helped that she had already shared everything with Harry, there were moments when her heart still clenched painfully at the memories.

When she had finished, a pensive silence fell and Ginny stared at her in disbelief. “Shit,” she said finally. “I think we need another drink.”

Grateful for the reprieve, Hermione leapt to her feet, stumbling only slightly. “That is, by far, the wisest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Gin.”

She took some deep breaths at the bar, trying to clear her mind and refocus back on the present.

“I just can’t believe you've been friends with the ferret for eight years and dated him for _three_ ,” Ginny said, shaking her head, as Hermione sat back down.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, you know. I wanted to.”

“Does Ron know?”

Hermione’s cheeks took on a slight pink tinge as she fiddled with the hem of her robe. “No, only you and Harry.”

“I think that’s for the best,” Ginny said thoughtfully. “For now, at least.”

They continued talking and drinking, enjoying each other’s company, and didn’t notice the pub become gradually quieter. Eventually, Madam Rosmerta herded them out the front door.

Throwing robes over their shoulders, Hermione and Ginny began the walk back to Hogwarts. Linking arms for warmth, they braced themselves against the biting cold, every breath showing itself as a plume of white steam.

“I feel guilty,” Hermione admitted at one point, the alcohol thrumming through her veins helped ease the pain of honesty. “I should have gone to his trial, been there for him. Every time I look at him it reminds me that I spent so long being angry, I never stopped to think about what he might be going through."

“Don't forget, he still did some shitty things, Hermione.”

“I know he – ”

“Unceremoniously left you in the library… _naked!_ ” Ginny snorted, shrilling the last word a little too loudly.

Unsure why she found such a devastating event suddenly hilarious, Hermione burst into peal of laughter.

Ginny gasped for breath. “ _I_ _m_ _agine_ if old Pince had found you: ‘just whom have you let _Slyther-IN_ , Miss Granger? Only books may be _checked out_ here, not students!”

“Oh Godric,” Hermione hiccupped, tears streaming down her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this light, happy she thought, as though everything was going to be okay.

* * *

She crept as quietly as she could back into the eighth year common room and slowly pushed open her bedroom door. Although the cold walk had helped sober her up, she wasn’t as vigilant as usual and therefore missed the other presence in the room.

“Granger?”

Hermione startled.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said groggily from an armchair by the window. “I just didn’t want you to have to sleep alone again.”

She grumbled something under her breath about locking charms and privacy, but gestured him towards her bed. Having been worried about what her next nightmare might entail, she was secretly relieved that he had come.

“Theo popped over by the way," Draco said conversationally as he settled next to her. "I asked if I could take a message for you, but he declined. I don't think he'll be stopping by again any time soon."

“What did you – ”

He interrupted, “in more important news, where have you been?”

“Ginny and I went to the Three Broomsticks.”

“I thought I could smell Firewhiskey,” Draco smirked. “Drinking on a school night, Granger, what _has_ gotten into you?”

She ignored the comment and, frowning at one of his hands that lay between them, brushed her finger across the ring she had given him. “Have you worn this the whole time?”

“No,” he said, shifting closer to her. “After I… after I left Hogwarts, I took it off because I couldn’t bear to feel it or see any messages after you read my letter and then – ”

She looked at him sharply and interrupted, “what letter?”

“The one I left for you in the library?”

“I didn’t see any letter, Draco.”

“What?" he spluttered. "So you thought I just left, without a word?"

She nodded.

“Fuck.”

The soft patter of rain against the window drew both of their attention away for a moment. Hermione turned over so she could look out at the blanket of stars. She rarely closed her curtains these days, it made her feel suffocated and anxious.

Draco pulled her closer to him and wrapped an arm around her waist. 

“Where do we go from here?” she sighed eventually. “What do you want?”

“You,” he murmured. “I want you to be mine again.”

Hermione thought back to her conversation with Ginny. “I – I can’t Draco,” she hesitated, feeling him tense behind her. “I can’t go back to sneaking around and hiding things from people I care about.”

His response came almost immediately, “that’s fine, we won’t.”

“You don’t mean that,” she told him. “You’re not thinking about the implications.”

“I do, and I have. You’re the one who’ll face the implications, not me.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, frowning.

Draco gave a hollow laugh, waving his hands in a semi-circle. “I can see the headline now: ‘Gryffindor’s Golden Girl Disgraced as She Sullies Herself with Death Eater.”

His words hung heavily on her and it took a few moments before she could reply, “you know that doesn’t bother me. If anyone thinks that, it’s their problem not ours.” Hermione felt his grip on her tighten. “I’m more concerned about how your parents would react.”

“I’ll sort it.”

It was late and her eyes were starting to feel heavy. “How can I trust you, after all the lies you've told?"

Draco kissed her softly and said quietly, “I’ll never lie to you again.”


	12. Chapter 12

When Hermione awoke that morning, head pounding slightly, she was still comfortably entwined between Draco’s limbs. Logically, she knew they were playing a dangerous game: the blurring lines of their relationship would inevitably lead to heartbreak, but she felt powerless to stop it.

Pushing these thoughts from her mind she carefully extricated herself from his arms and, before turning to leave and get ready for the day, allowed herself a moment of weakness and indulged in admiring his sleeping form.

He was always beautiful but, in sleep, he looked almost angelic - Hermione scoffed at the thought. His white blonde hair fanned across the pillow and he looked serene with no smirks, sneers, or frowns contorting his features. Shaking her head, she made her way to the girls bathroom.

Draco was still there when she re-entered her room, sitting in her armchair and looking perfectly at home.

“Where’s your necklace?” he asked pleasantly. 

Hermione automatically brought a hand to her bare chest. “Oh, I keep forgetting you don’t know what happened while we were looking for Horcruxes.”

He gave her a formidable glare. “I shall refrain from commenting on that particular suicide mission.” His jaw clenched. “But why would you forget that I don’t know?”

“No particular reason,” she said, instantly realising her mistake. “So, the necklace?”

Draco growled, “Granger?”

Her face was now decidedly warm, and she knew he wouldn’t let it go. “Fine, fine! I missed you so… well, I wrote pretend letters to you, about what we were doing. Happy now?”

His eyes blazed and he stepped forwards. Twisting her curls through his fingers, he tilted her head back and claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, before suddenly realising himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered, dropping his hands.

The pink tinge in her cheeks showed no sign of fading, so she continued as though nothing had happened, “yes, well, the necklace. Harry and I had gone to Godric’s Hollow and Voldemort’s snake attacked us – ”

“ _What?_ ”

“Don’t interrupt, clearly I am fine. Anyway, I wondered whether the necklace you gave me, oh this sounds stupid, but I wondered whether it, well, saved me.”

Draco’s eyes were wide as he digested this information. “Obviously I hoped you’d never have to find out but, yes, it probably did save you,” he ran a hand through his hair. “I charmed it to rebound one magical attack against you back to the assailant.”

“I suppose the snake was so interconnected with Voldemort, it counted as magical,” Hermione mused.

“That would make sense.”

“Well, thank you for, you know,” she gestured awkwardly towards herself.

Draco beamed, “saving your life?”

“Yes, that. Why did you want to know where the necklace was, anyway?”

He opened his palm which contained the bracelet he had given her and the ring that matched his own. “I am plotting, Granger,” he smirked. “Plotting.”

Despite his clear lack of boundaries when it came to her possessions, Hermione couldn’t help the corners of her mouth turn up. It had been a long time since she had last seen him in such a good mood.

Draco wanted to walk down to the Great Hall together that morning, to which she adamantly refused. As a compromise, they left her bedroom at the same time and subsequently went their separate ways.

She soon came to regret this decision as, upon leaving the common room, a voice shrilled her name. She sighed inwardly as she turned and saw who it was. "Parkinson."

“Don’t sound quite _so_ pleased to see me, people will talk.”

Hermione glowered and continued walking, assuming Pansy would catch up. As they reached the first set of stairs, she noticed the dark-haired girl open her mouth, close it, and then open it again.

“Are you in pain?” Hermione inquired.

Through gritted teeth Pansy answered, “no, Granger, I just – I wanted to – well, to apologise.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, I was surprised too.”

An uncomfortable silence swelled around them as they waited for another staircase to move in their direction and provide passage down to the Great Hall.

Hermione shifted and, unable to tolerate the quiet, asked, “for something, specifically?”

“Other than being a bit of a twat for however many years, yes,” Pansy said with a forced laugh. “I’m sorry for offering Potter up to the Dark – to _him_.”

“Ah.”

“I was scared,” she admitted. “Self-preservation and all that, well, it kicked in.”

Hermione considered the apology. It was undoubtedly not one of the best she had ever received, but it felt truthful and so she nodded her forgiveness. They continued to walk in silence again.

“Sooo,” Pansy said eventually, elbowing Hermione’s side, “you and Draco, hey?”

Apparently, she and the former Slytherin were now friends.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “I know that’s not true, Granger.” Hermione looked at her in surprise as she continued, “as much as I tried, he was just never interested in me and I always wondered why, until our evening with the Veritaserum. It’s _always_ been you, and it always will.”

Hermione made a non-committal grunt.

“When I think about everything he went through, I wonder whether you were actually the only thing that stopped him from going to pieces.”

“He wants us to have a public relationship,” Hermione blurted, surprised at her own candour. 

Looking pensive for a moment, Pansy said, “there would be repercussions for you both.”

“His parents might never speak to him again.”

She nodded. “And that might be the least of your problems.”

They reached the Great Hall and, whilst the conversation had to finish, Hermione’s mind was racing. All she had wanted before the war was for everyone to know about her relationship with Draco and now, with the mindset of someone who felt much older, she wasn’t sure whether it was the right decision.

As she and Pansy sat down, however, any lingering thoughts were banished from her mind at the look of horror etched on Draco’s face. The two girls laughed, perhaps a little excessively, and Hermione decided she had a made a good decision regarding forgiveness that morning.

Theo was unmistakably avoiding eye contact with her and she reminded herself to ask Draco what he had said or done the night before.

As she began to choose breakfast items for her plate, Professor McGonagall approached their table and an instant hush fell.

“I’m pleased to hear that you have all been settling into your new accommodations and getting along well,” the Headmistress said, smiling genially. “In the most recent staff meeting, we were hoping to entrust the twelve of you to organise a whole school event, based on the theme of inter-house unity.” She looked around at the students, “do you think that would be possible?”

There were a few nods of agreement. Hermione bounced slightly in her chair, face flushed with excitement, but managed to refrain from leaping up and taking control of the situation.

“Excellent,” Professor McGonagall nodded. “I look forward to hearing your plans.” 


	13. Chapter 13

The next few weeks passed in a blur of lessons and homework, the majority of which Hermione thoroughly enjoyed. It was planning the inter-house event that was causing the most stress; it appeared most of the eighth-years wanted a Quidditch tournament, much to her lament.

Draco slept in her room every night to ward off nightmares, both his own and hers, but that was it. Nothing else happened. Every morning though she would see him sat at one end of their table, furiously writing letter after letter. He refused to tell her who he was owling, only that it was part of his apparent ‘masterplan’.

Hermione had been sending owls of her own, primarily to Harry and Ron; neither of whom were particularly forthcoming with their replies. They gave vague answers and general descriptions about their Auror training. Harry had a few more updates to share from Patrick about her parents, but nothing conclusive yet. He told her to keep hope.

The week before the Christmas holidays, it seemed that Draco’s plans had finally come to fruition. When the post arrived in the Great Hall each morning, a large, mottled grey-brown Great Horned Owl would settle beside her and deposit a gift, before seeking out Draco for petting.

Pansy’s eyes grew wide when she saw the scarlet and silver colour shifting gem cloistered in Tuesday's present. Hermione moved to brush her fingers across the bracelet, remembering the moment he had given it to her many years ago, but Pansy gripped her wrist and asked, “do you know what that will mean?”

Hermione nodded: Draco had told her before that within Pureblood culture it was customary to give jewellery as a symbol of intention, part of a betrothal contract. She wasn’t ready to wear it again quite yet, there were still things she needed to think about, but she took it from the box and placed it carefully in her pocket.

On Friday, their final day of classes for the year, Hermione was checking her satchel to ensure she had everything ready, when Draco stood and moved around the table towards her. She glowered at him, concerned about what he was planning to do next, but tried to convince herself that Draco Malfoy absolutely did not enjoy public displays of affection.

She was wrong.

Draco stopped in front of her and, with a slight smirk, said, “Granger, will you accompany me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

It was completely unnecessary to ask such a question in front of the entire Great Hall and Hermione felt as though she had no choice but to acquiesce. She nodded but, under her breath, hissed, “what about your _parents_ , Draco?”

“All sorted,” he said quietly, before announcing loudly, “it’s a date.”

Hermione only just managed to refrain from rolling her eyes in response.

* * *

Wandering into Hogsmeade the next morning, Draco caught her hand with his and entwined their fingers together, “this okay?” he asked.

“Only if you’re sure,” she replied, and he nodded.

“I bet you never realised I could be so expressive?”

“No, Draco, I did not,” she groaned, trying to hide the smile on her face. “Tell me again why it was necessary to _express_ yourself in front of the entire Great Hall?”

“Well I had to ensure everyone was aware of my intentions towards you, didn’t I?”

Hermione smiled, “intentions perhaps, but nothing’s confirmed yet, is it?”

He was too busy glowering to notice she had lifted the sleeve of her robe to reveal the bracelet he had now twice gifted her.

“ _Draco_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he glimpsed her wrist and, swallowing slowly, he ground out, “Granger?”

They had stopped in the middle of the path. His hands moved to cup her chin, one thumb drawing circles on her cheekbone. Hermione’s heart pounded as she stared up at him, even after all this time she still couldn't quite believe that he was over a head taller than her.

“We need to go slowly,” she told him. “There’s a lot we need to discuss. But, Draco, I want you. I want us.”

“Fuck, Hermione, I love you.”

She chuckled, “I think you might need a few lessons in ‘ _going slow_ ’, Malfoy.”

Smirking, he grabbed her hand again and pulled her into the little village.

“So, where _are_ you taking me on this fantastic date of yours?”

His smirk widened, “have you ever been to Madam – ”

“Oh Merlin, no,” she interrupted, mouth agape.

“I am absolutely joking, Granger. We are not setting foot in that establishment.”

Hermione laughed, tightening her grip on his hand, “thank Godric.”

“’Mione?” someone called from behind her.

She immediately recognised the familiar voice and, glancing briefly up at Draco, reluctantly turned around.

The smile that had initially flooded Ron’s face was quickly replaced by a grimace as he absorbed the image before him: Hermione and Draco, fingers laced together.

He glanced up and down, left to right, “what’s this?”

Nobody moved. Hermione and Harry stared at each other, panic etched onto their features.

“Would _anybody_ like to update me?” Ron snarled, his voice low.

Her heart stopped as Draco took a step forward, held out his hand, and said, “Weasley.”

Hermione barely heard the curse that emanated from Ron’s mouth before he launched himself at Draco, fists bared. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” he yelled.

She attempted to leap in front of Draco, but he caught her arms and pushed her gently to the side.

“Weasley,” Draco drawled, “don’t embarrass yourself.”

It would have been absolute chaos if Draco hadn’t, somehow, managed to hold himself back and simply dodge each attack aimed towards him.

“Harry,” she whispered angrily, “don’t just stand there.”

Her statement seemed to urge the trainee Auror into action. Harry dove between the two of them, “stop, fucking stop this.”

Ron paused to stare at his friend, “you’re _okay_ with this?”

“It’s not our decision,” Harry asserted. “I trust Hermione, and so should you.”

“No,” he shouted. “She’s clearly not in her right mind, we need to _do_ something about this.”

Hermione was fuming, “Ronald, how dare you? I am absolutely capable of making my own choices, who do you think you are?”

Ron look mollified for a moment until he caught sight of Draco again, “have you all fucking forgotten who he is, what he’s _done_?”

There was silence again.

“ _He_ ,” Ron pointed savagely at Draco, “aside from bullying us for years _and_ trying to kill Dumbledore, just _watched_ Hermione get tortured on the floor of his fucking Manor. Most concerned with how they might remove the fucking blood stains.”

She knew the second these words left his mouth that Draco would break.

“Get out of my fucking face,” Draco spat. “You know _nothing_ about what happened that night, I would have done anything for Hermione.”

Ron sneered, “yeah but you didn’t though, did you, _Malfoy_?”

As Draco took another step forward, Hermione suddenly noticed the crowd they were drawing in. “Can we continue this conversation somewhere a bit more private?” she asked brusquely.

“No,” Ron snapped and turned to leave. “I’m going nowhere with him _or you_."

Harry looked apologetically at Hermione before running after their friend.


	14. Chapter 14

They tried not to let the confrontation with Ron ruin the rest of their afternoon, but this proved challenging. Draco had become sullen and withdrawn and Hermione couldn’t stop ruminating about everything that had been said. To some extent she understood Ron's response; he would have been shocked, and she was sure his reaction was borne out of concern for her.

However, from experience, Hermione also knew just how long Ron's moods could last for and so she was decidedly not looking forward to spending Christmas between Grimmauld Place and the Burrow. It was going to be painful enough without her parents, and now one third of their trio was furious with her.

After some last-minute Christmas shopping and a brief drink at the Three Broomsticks, Hermione and Draco decided to head back to Hogwarts. It had become progressively colder and she shivered, pulling her robe more tightly around her. Draco silently cast a Warming Charm and tucked her into him.

“You know when you mysteriously said you had ‘sorted it’ with your parents,” Hermione said as they walked. “What exactly did you mean?”

Draco huffed and a plume of white steam drifted from his mouth. “Well, my father has enough years in Azkaban to come to terms with it, and my mother actually already knew – ” Hermione made to interrupt, shock etched across her face, but he scowled and she reluctantly indicated for him to continue. “She already knew because when I got the Mark, my Occlumency shields were down and she saw you.”

“What happened?” Hermione asked, eyes wide.

“At the time, she said I needed to stay away from you, to keep us both safe," he frowned. "And we know how well that went. Anyway, I wrote a letter last week, to let her know that I was planning on courting you publicly.”

She couldn’t help but flush at the old-fashioned term. “And what was her response?”

“That if it makes me happy, it’s fine with her. I don’t think it was particularly unexpected anyway, given what she already knew, as well as my response when you were… at the Manor.” Draco shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the memories.

“There wasn’t anything you could do, you know that.”

Hermione could see the pulse throbbing in his neck as he said, “Weasley wasn’t entirely wrong though, was he? I was weak, I’ve always been weak. I _should_ have been able to help you.” Draco gave a hollow laugh, “I’m surprised he didn’t mention that I also almost killed him and Bell.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” she argued.

They’d stopped walking now, despite the bitterly cold wind. Hermione gazed up at him as his eyes grew darker and he stood rigid and tense.

“I did, though,” he said quietly. “You tried to help me, even – even Snape did. But no, I refused. Thought I could do it by myself.”

“You were doing what you felt was best for your family. Ron doesn't know the whole story: you’re a good person who, yes, maybe could have done some things differently, but you deserve the chance to move on and – ”

“I don’t deserve that, I don’t deserve to be happy,” he snapped, lifting his arms helplessly before gesturing to Hermione, “and I certainly don’t deserve you.” 

“Stop,” she shouted, louder than intended. “Stop this.” He looked at her in surprise and she carried on, “I know you’ve not said very much about what it was like here last year, but I’ve heard bits and pieces from Ginny and Neville. From what it sounded like, you tried your best to help those who needed it. You have been forced into awful situations that no person, let alone a _child_ , should find themselves in.”

Slipping her hands beneath his warm robe, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled their bodies tightly together. “You, Draco Malfoy, are one of the most stubborn, frustrating, ridiculous, dramatic – ”

“Are you trying to make me feel worse, Granger?” he grumbled into her hair.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” she chuckled, poking his ribs. “But, you are also protective, fiercely loyal, intelligent, funny. You’ve been there for me time and again, and I love you, so much.”

Draco was silent for a while, his breathing uneven, and Hermione was sure the top of her head felt damp. Eventually, he said quietly, “I can’t lose you again.”

“You never lost me, Draco.”

* * *

The Christmas period passed much as Hermione had imagined it would. She missed her parents desperately and struggled without the routine and structure that Hogwarts provided. Although Ron refused to speak more than a few words to her at a time, he had been more cordial than she expected; Hermione wondered whether this might have been Ginny's influence.

Having made the decision that it wouldn’t be fair on anyone to sleep in the same bed as Harry anymore, she had been concerned about the nightmares that would inevitably pursue her. However, each night she would feel her ring heat up and the words ‘u r safe’ would appear. It seemed that Draco had not forgotten his Muggle abbreviation techniques.

When January finally came around, Hermione was more than ready to return to Hogwarts. She arrived later than usual due to first stopping for tea with Hagrid, and so the castle was unusually quiet. Flying up the great stone steps and into the Entrance Hall, she strode quickly to the eighth-year common room. The holidays had allowed her time and space to reflect, and she knew that she was finally ready to give Draco everything.

He stood when he saw her, smiling hesitantly at her flushed face, and absently ran his fingers through his hair. Without preamble Hermione leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs around him. Draco gripped her firmly as she crushed her lips to his, swallowing the sound of her name. She moved away for a moment to catch her breath, but he pulled her back and kissed her again.

The sound of whoops and clapping brought her back into the room and, suddenly remembering where they were, Hermione blushed furiously and made to get down, but Draco held onto her tightly. Lifting his middle finger to their peers, he carried her upstairs and into his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to [Nishikat_](https://www.instagram.com/nishikat_/) for this beautiful artwork, I am obsessed.


	15. Chapter 15

“What was that for, Granger?” Draco breathed against her neck as he dropped Hermione onto his bed.

She grappled with his shirt and, tearing buttons off in her haste to rid him of such cumbersome material, moaned, “I missed you.”

With a wave of his wand, he smirked and rendered them both entirely naked.

“I need to learn that,” she muttered before gasping as he caught her jaw between his hands and kissed her urgently.

Draco caressed her breasts, twisting and pulling her nipples until she moaned into his mouth. She could feel his erection, hot and heavy between them, as he left a trail of wet kisses across her skin.

With a final pinch to her nipple, he slid one hand down between her legs and grazed her slick folds. “You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, circling his thumb across her clit.

Hermione’s hips bucked as he slipped two fingers inside her and pumped them slowly in and out. “Stop teasing,” she moaned.

He chuckled, continuing his ministrations and ignoring her need. Frustrated, she clenched her thighs and rolled them over, straddling Draco as he lay on his back, eyes glazed with lust and pupils blown.

Taking his hard cock in her hand, she stroked him and savoured the low groan that erupted from his throat. Hermione lined him up with her entrance as his hands gripped her hips. They both moaned as the tip sunk into her slick heat. With a choking sound, Draco pushed forwards, filling her in a single thrust.

Hips rising and falling slowly, Hermione panted, enjoying every inch of him. She relished the thought of being in control of his pleasure; lifting herself almost entirely off him, before sliding back down.

“Who’s teasing now, Granger,” Draco growled as she rocked leisurely back and forth.

His grip on her hips tightened suddenly and he thrust into her, choosing to set his own pace, hard and fast. She whined and raked her nails across his chest.

There was still a small part of her that hoped their Silencing Charms were holding strong, but the rest of her didn’t care. In that moment, all she cared about was the coiling heat inside her, building each time he fucked into her. She cried out as her climax arrived: breath quick and shallow, walls clenching. It had been such a long time since they had been together like this and she swore her vision went black for a moment.

Her body convulsing around him was too much to bear, he pound relentlessly into her until she felt him tense suddenly. “Fuck – I can’t,” he groaned, “I’m going to – ”

“Please,” she whimpered, core still pulsing. “Draco, I need you to.”

The cry of his name and her arching back is what did it for him, every muscle in his body tightened as he spilled into her. He crushed his body to her, breathing laboured, as she stroked his chest.

“I love you,” they whispered to each other, “so much.”

* * *

The next morning, she awoke warm in Draco’s arms. Neither of them had suffered from nightmares. Hermione felt him stir behind her, his hard length pressing against her back.

“You are insatiable,” she laughed as he pushed his hips forward.

His breath was hot and tickled the nape of her neck, “it’s the morning.”

A series of loud knocks interrupted them and Blaise yelled, “get your asses down here, it’s our final planning meeting before the inter-house event.”

They heard footsteps echoing down the corridor as Draco growled, “this is absolutely not how I hoped to be spending my morning.”

Having gotten ready quickly, Hermione smiled as they walked down the stairs into the living area, taking in the table of eighth years laughing and joking together.

“So, the inter-house Quidditch match is set for the week after next,” Blaise announced. “Every year has had their tryouts now, and we’ve got a good representation from each House.”

A sense of excitement swelled throughout the common room. Hermione was surprised that Blaise and Pansy of all people had taken the lead in event planning, but they had done a particularly good job at encouraging unity between all students.

“What else is there for us to think about?” Ernie asked.

“We need to decide the colours for each team,” Pansy said, checking through her notes. “Does anyone have any ideas?”

After a thoughtful silence, Hermione mused, “would silver and gold work?”

Draco smiled and squeezed her hand as the rest of the table nodded their approval. Pansy summoned a quill and made another note. “We also need a rough estimation of numbers,” she said. “So if you could all write down any guests who will be attending, that would be great.”

As the parchment was placed in front of them, Hermione and Draco both stilled. The list contained names of mainly parents and other family members. It was, understandably, a sore subject for each of them.

Noticing Hermione’s hesitation, Draco murmured, “they’re going to have a separate area for Muggles, Granger; your parents can come.”

She shook her head, she hadn’t told him anything about what she had done, not wanting him to bear any more pain than he already did.

“I'll explain later,” she promised, pushing the parchment away.

* * *

That evening, when the eighth years were busy working, gossiping, or playing Exploding Snap, Hermione slipped away unnoticed from the common room and made her way to the Headmistress’s Office.

“Harmony,” she murmured, and the Gargoyle spread its wings, revealing a small stone staircase.

“Miss Granger” a voice called from above her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.”

Professor McGonagall gestured towards the seat in front of her desk as Hermione walked into the large, circular room.

“I’m sorry to intrude so late.”

McGonagall smiled and shook her head, “I am always available to see you, you know that. Now, what can I do for you?”

Steeling herself, Hermione said, “this is a big ask but, well, the students are inviting their families to the inter-house Quidditch game and I thought that perhaps… perhaps Narcissa Malfoy could be invited?”

“Miss Granger, I – ”

“I appreciate that she is on house arrest but, with approval from the Ministry, she could be allowed to attend for the day. I can't imagine that there is a better way to demonstrate our desire for unity and forgiveness?"

Although Professor McGonagall’s eyes didn’t twinkle in _quite_ the same way as Dumbledore’s used to, there was certainly a sparkle present tonight. “You have presented a credible case,” she said, “and I will speak to Kingsley immediately. Time is of the essence here, I believe.”

Hermione’s smile didn’t fade for a long time after that.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s taken a bit longer than usual to get this out – it’s had about 700 edits and I’m still not happy! I think because there’s only around 3-4 chapters left to go I’m trying a bit too hard and nothing seems to be flowing! Anyway, I hope it’s not too terrible and I can’t believe we’re almost at the end :-O

Two weeks passed in a flurry of excitement and, as Hermione walked into the Great Hall on the morning of the inter-House Quidditch match, she was struck by the scene in front of her. The pale blue, cloudless sky was projected across the enchanted ceiling, casting an ethereal glow over the gold and silver clad students. Whilst the House tables remained in place, no one took any notice of them as they raced animatedly from one person to another.

Professor McGonagall sat at the head of the staff table, smiling contentedly, and eventually stood to address the room. “We have already had the pleasure of watching six fantastic matches to determine our finalists.” There was a roar of cheers and the Headmistress couldn’t help the upward twitch of her lips. “Yes, thank you. Now I would advise that you all begin to finish your meals and get ready to head towards the pitch.”

Hermione smiled, recalling the games already played and the sense of camaraderie that followed. Matches had been held between consecutive years and the winners of each round then faced the next year closest to them. Today was the final between the eighth and, to everyone’s surprise, third year.

Leaving the Great Hall, Hermione glimpsed a flash of platinum blonde hair and couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped her lips as she took in Draco’s Quidditch attire.

The uniform was designed with speed and agility in mind, which meant that it had the bonus feature of being especially tight. Every angle of his lithe body was on display and framed perfectly by leather pads across his broad shoulders. Her gaze began trailing down towards the shin guards hugging his muscular calves, but caught instead on one particular area a little higher up.

He spotted her staring and, noticing her flushed cheeks, gave a glorious smirk. “See something you like, Granger?”

Hermione glanced up and down the corridor. “How long do you have until the match starts?”

“The match itself isn’t for a while yet, but – ”

“Perfect,” she interrupted and, grabbing his arm, pulled him into a nearby empty classroom.

“Granger, what are you – ” Draco was cut off for a second time as the door clicked shut and Hermione moved towards him, shrugging off her robe whilst murmuring various locking and silencing charms.

* * *

Some time later, having established that the corridor was, again, empty, they slipped surreptitiously out of the classroom; Hermione making a valiant attempt to smooth her hair.

Draco sighed languidly as they walked towards the Entrance Hall and down the stone steps. “I ought to wear this uniform more often,” he drawled. “In fact, I might never take it off."

“Then we’d never make it anywhere on time,” she laughed, shaking her head.

He cocked an eyebrow to indicate his complete lack of concern and received an eye roll in response.

"They won’t mind that you’re a bit late to the practice, will they?”

Draco began to reply and then stopped abruptly, staring wide-eyed into the distance. As he turned, the enraptured look on his face made her breath catch.

“It’s – it’s my mother,” he said and, suddenly grasping her hand, pulled them towards a tall, dark haired woman.

“Draco, maybe you should see her without me.”

He kept a firm grip on her. “She’s going to love you.”

Hermione’s heart pounded erratically as they approached Narcissa Malfoy and stopped before her. The older woman beamed and pulled her son into her arms. “Draco,” she breathed.

“Mother, how are you here?”

“I believe we have Miss Granger to thank for my ability to attend today,” Narcissa said, nodding politely in Hermione’s direction.

Draco gaped at Hermione, his eyes were almost comically wide, and her cheeks flamed. She had assumed that her name wouldn’t be brought into any discussions held.

Flustered, she struggled to put words into coherent sentences. “Oh, yes, well – well, that’s fine, of course.”

“Headmistress McGonagall came to tell me the Minister’s decision herself,” Narcissa clarified, acknowledging Hermione’s discomfort. “It was very kind of you to think of me, thank you.”

Her heart almost entirely stopped as Draco pulled her into a tight hug. She wiggled to get free whilst staring apologetically at Narcissa, who seemed to be pursing her lips in an attempt not to laugh at the look of anguish on Hermione’s face.

“Miss Granger – ”

“Please, call me Hermione.”

Narcissa smiled. “I have known about your relationship with my son for quite some time now. And, whilst he ought to know better than to accost a young woman in public,” she gave Draco a chastising glance, “I have no reservations about the two of you being together.”

Hermione dipped her head slightly, trying to hide the surprise etched across her face. Although Draco had told her this was the case, she hadn’t quite believed him. “Thank you,” she said after a moment’s pause.

There was a sudden burst of noise from the Quidditch pitch and the sound of cheering students filled the air. Draco glanced between Hermione and his mother, unsure whether it was acceptable for him to leave them alone together.

“Don’t worry, my darling,” Narcissa said, feigning innocence, “I shall only share a couple of stories about you growing up”. His expression contorted into one of panic and Hermione beamed when Narcissa began her anecdote.

As the crowd grew louder, Draco had no choice but to race towards the pitch. Turning back only once, he prayed his mother wouldn’t talk about the time she caught him with a folder full of parchment he had siphoned from Hermione during their library sessions; her handwriting being the only thing he had of hers during the long summer holidays.

Following slowly along the path Draco had taken, Narcissa came to a halt and looked around pensively before gently touching Hermione's shoulder. “I’m afraid I am about to spring a difficult topic on you," she said quietly. "Ideally I would discuss such matters in a more private location, however, I felt it was important for you to hear this straight away."

There was a pause and Hermione looked at Narcissa in confusion. The older woman gently cleared her throat before continuing, "Hermione, I am deeply sorry for the horrors you were forced to endure in my home. The fact that I not only stood by, but actively prevented Draco from assisting you is something that will haunt me forever.”

Hermione’s mouth was dry and she swallowed, nervously licking her lips. She had not been expecting this. “I – I appreciate you saying that,” she murmured. “I’m glad you protected him though, he needed that.”

"You were all just children," she whispered and, from the glazed look she now wore, Hermione could sense the memories were threatening to overwhelm her.

Attempting to bring Narcissa back into the present, she gestured to the stands, "shall we choose some seats?"

Narcissa blinked, grounding herself. "Yes, good idea, where are your parents sat?"

Their emotionally charged conversation had left Hermione feeling drained and she was horrified to feel the familiar burn of tears develop behind her eyes. “Oh, um, they’re not here,” was all she could manage to say.

Narcissa gave her an astute look. “What has happened, Hermione?”

She wasn’t entirely sure what it was that compelled her, but found herself telling Draco's mother everything.


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione and Narcissa ended up missing much of the Quidditch match as they talked and she couldn’t quite believe it when Narcissa promised to look into whether there was anything more that could be done for her parents.

When they eventually turned to the game ahead of them, they saw Draco hurtle towards the ground in a perilously fast dive, the third year Seeker trailing hesitantly behind. Jerking suddenly to the left, Draco leant forward, hand outstretched. Hermione gasped as he appeared to wobble slightly, before righting himself and just managing to close his fingers around the small, struggling Snitch.

The entire school erupted into raucous applause as Draco held up his hand and flew slowly back down to the ground. It was an almost perfect end to the match - although the third years had come second, they had still beaten the eighth years in terms of number of goals scored.

Draco quickly became surrounded by a crowd of people, all eager for a glimpse of gold. Leaning against his broom, and looking far too attractive for his own good, Hermione couldn’t resist hopping down from the stands to go and congratulate him.

The moment he saw her, Draco stepped forward and cupped her face with his hands, brushing small circles along her soft skin. She was surprised when he quickly lowered his head to capture her lips with his.

“Well done,” she murmured, leaning against him.

The group of eighth years nearby paid no attention, already aware of their relationship, but Hermione noticed a few glances and whispered comments from other students as they filed out back towards the castle.

She caught Ginny’s eye who, frowning, walked over. “Did you hear what they were saying?”

Hermione nodded as she turned to her friend. “Apparently they’re querying whether I really am ‘the brightest witch’ for being with Draco.”

“I heard them mention that Malfoy’s using you in an attempt to rebuild his social status,” Ginny added.

Draco came up behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Damn it, Granger,” he smirked, “I had hoped you wouldn’t find out so soon.”

Ginny snorted, “you could have made it a lot easier on yourself if you’d chosen a less challenging witch to improve your status.”

He laughed, nodding solemnly, and exhaled a long-suffering sigh. Hermione glowered at both of them, elbowing Draco in the chest for good measure.

“It’s just so frustrating,” she lamented. “They were cheering your win not twenty minutes ago!”

Draco shrugged, “it doesn’t matter, they’ll get bored and move onto something else in a day or two.”

“Hopefully,” she muttered.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Ginny piped up again, “I’m meeting Harry in Hogsmeade tomorrow and he asked whether you two want to join us for a drink?”

Draco tried, but failed, to hide his grimace. “How did you know that was exactly how I hoped to spend my weekend?”

Th redhead smiled sardonically.

“Yes, we would love to,” Hermione said, ignoring the glare he sent her way.

“Great,” Ginny replied and, as she walked away, called quickly over her shoulder, “Ron’s coming by the way.”

Draco groaned, "fucking fantastic."

* * *

The next morning was unseasonably cold. Hermione and Draco braced themselves against the biting wind as they walked into Hogsmeade. Despite the heat of Draco’s arm around her, and the numerous Warming Charms they had cast, she was still shivering.

“It’ll be fine, absolutely fine,” Hermione muttered. “We’ll have a great time.” The comment was intended for Draco but, really, she was trying to reassure herself.

“Maybe we should turn back?” he offered, smiling innocently. She glowered at him.

It had been a few months since Ron had accidently stumbled across her and Draco holding hands, and he had barely spoken to her since. She felt small and childish, as though she were back in third year again when he refused to talk to her because of Crookshanks.

Pulling herself from these ruminations, Hermione looked around the bustling street. Chattering witches and wizards moved from one shop to another, clutching bags and holding tightly to small children, every breath showed itself as a plume of white steam.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to go into Tomes and Scrolls?” Draco whispered enticingly. “I can hear the books calling out to you.”

Hermione’s eyes glazed over slightly as she stared longingly at the storefront he was pulling her towards. Long rows of dark oak bookshelves embraced hundreds of meticulously organised books and the flicker of floating candles was almost hypnotising, imploring her to just take a _quick_ look around.

She shook her head, trying to convince herself that she absolutely did not need the newest edition of ‘Spellman’s Syllabary’. “Come on, let’s go over what we discussed,” she said firmly, and Draco knew he had lost.

Sighing, he recalled her 'rules' for their meeting with Harry and Ron, “be boring.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and corrected, “no aggravating or sarcastic comments. Next?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

Those weren’t her exact words, but she allowed it. “Anything else?” she prompted.

Draco paused, stroking his chin dramatically and pretending to think deeply about his answer. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. “If no one dies or suffers any grievous injuries,” he swallowed, pupils dilating, “you’ll wear that lingerie set that I am _particularly_ fond of this evening.”

Hermione blushed, this time those actually _were_ her exact words. She hadn’t been entirely sure how he would take to bribery but, as it turned out, it worked extremely well.

They had arrived at the Three Broomsticks far too quickly, and Hermione peered through one of the windows. She could hear the crackling of fire and feel an inviting warmth radiating from the glass. Harry and Ron were already seated in a booth towards the back of the room, their heads bent together in deep conversation. She smiled, wondering whether Harry was giving Ron a similar list of rules to the ones she had supplied Draco with, minus the lingerie (she assumed).

Hermione turned to Draco, gripping his hand more tightly, “ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied and bent to brush his lips against hers.

Ginny was stood ordering drinks as they walked in. It appeared that she had Charmed the new bartender to serve her Firewhiskey, despite not yet being eighteen. Draco quickly filched a glass, gulped down its contents, and ordered another.

“That keen to spend the afternoon with us, hey?” Ginny laughed, passing a drink to Hermione who shook her head.

Levitating their drinks to the table, Hermione greeted the two boys and settled into a worn armchair. An uncomfortable silence swelled and they all pretended to be intensely focused on something around them. Hermione stared determinedly into the foam of her Butterbeer, watching the small bubbles rise and fall.

Ginny gave an exasperated sigh, glowering at each of them in turn. “You’re all ridiculous, someone’s got to go first.”

Shifting uneasily, Hermione looked at Ron. “I’m sorry you found out about Draco and I – ”

He cut her off, leaning forward in his seat, “so it really is ‘ _Draco and I_ ’ now, is it?”

Draco stiffened next to her. “We’re together, if that’s what you mean,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “I’m sorry I hadn’t told you before, I wanted to – ”

“How long has this been going on for?”

“You could just let her speak,” Draco muttered under his breath.

A crimson stain was beginning to spread from Ron’s neck towards his cheeks. “What did you say, Malfoy?” he snapped.

“I _said_ that you should let Granger speak, you keep interrupting her.”

Ginny exhaled heavily from across the table which prompted Hermione into action. “Okay, this doesn’t feel very helpful,” she reflected. “Ron, I know you don’t like this, but it’s what I want.”

“’Mione, I just want you to be happy and I don’t see how _he_ ,” Ron jabbed a finger in Draco’s direction, “could do that for you.”

Hermione could see Draco clench his jaw in an effort not to retort. Despite his impressive ability to conceal emotions – the small smirk, the nonchalant way he reclined against the sofa – she could sense the tenuous grip he currently held on his temper.

“He can, he does,” Hermione said, reaching for his hand. “I’m happy, Ron, and he makes me feel safe. I don’t jump and reach for my wand the moment someone surprises me anymore, my body isn’t constantly tense preparing me to run or fight, and the nightmares are almost non-existent now.”

There was another silence as Ron contemplated his response. She caught Harry shooting her a sympathetic smile as she looked down at the table, avoiding Ron’s gaze.

“I need time,” he said eventually. “I still don’t get it, and I can’t just forget everything he’s done.” Hermione opened her mouth, but Ron continued, “I’m not mad though. You’re my best friend, ‘Mione, I’ve missed you."

She smiled weakly, relief flooding through her. “I missed you too.”

Ron turned to look at Draco, “but if you do _anything_ to hurt her, Malfoy, I will destroy you.”

“You can help Harry then,” Ginny said, beaming. “He’s already preparing his ‘don’t hurt Hermione’ speech!”

“Send me an owl when it’s ready,” Draco drawled.

They continued to make peaceful, albeit slightly forced, conversation for a while until Ron appeared to decide that he had tolerated Draco’s presence for long enough. He said his goodbyes, even managing a glance in the former Slytherin’s direction.

The moment he was out of earshot Hermione gave Harry and Ginny a piercing look. “Fat lot of use you two were,” she huffed.

“But you were doing such a good job,” Harry said, grinning, as Ginny chipped in, “we didn’t want to intrude.”

Draco pulled Hermione to her feet and looked at the other couple, Ginny practically straddling Harry’s lap. “We’ll leave you both to it,” he smirked as Hermione leant over to give them both a hug.

“See you soon, and don’t be late back Ginny!”

“Potter,” Draco nodded. “Weaslette.”

As they walked out of the pub together, Hermione whispered, “after your restraint this afternoon I think you deserve more than just the lingerie.”

He had never hated the Hogwarts Anti-Apparition Wards more.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---
> 
> My indecision has _finally_ been resolved and I can confirm that there will be two chapters left after this one – so we’ll finish on twenty.  
> As we’re coming to the end, I just wanted to say THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who has commented and left kudos throughout this journey. I’m so humbled to have people interested in something I’ve written, and you have all kept me motivated to keep posting.  
> Okay, time to put down my tiny violin and get to the actual story 😇
> 
> \---

The months seemed to pass rapidly after the inter-House Quidditch match. The bitterly cold winds of February melted into March and flowers began rearing their heads again. By the time May merged with June, the dull mornings had transformed to ones of light and warmth.

Unfortunately, these changes also signalled the beginning of exam season which, for seventh and eighth years, meant preparing for N.E.W.T.s. Renowned for being the most challenging exams a witch or wizard could take, Hermione and Draco had seven each to sit.

Draco sorely hoped that, whatever career Hermione ultimately decided to pursue, she would never again have to take an exam once these were over. Her usual academic neuroticism had increased tenfold and he was certain he’d developed whiplash as a result of her abrupt mood swings. He tried to ease her burden by providing an endless supply of tea and sugar quills.

Alongside the pressures of revision, Draco was also awaiting the outcome of his probation period. Despite her exhaustion, Hermione stayed up with him night after night as he relived every moment of eighth year; wondering what might count for or against him.

* * *

Their final exam was particularly long and arduous - Professor Vector had set five complex Arithmancy questions. The heat from outside had seeped into the usually cool Great Hall and beads of sweat trickled down Hermione’s face. She could feel coils of hair spring free from her bun as she moved her quill feverishly across the parchment. As the ten-minute warning was announced, she grit her teeth to get through the throbbing pain in her hand and wrote a final five inches.

When the bell reverberated, calling the exam to a close, Hermione felt a sense of melancholy wash over her. This would be the last time she ever sat in the Hall to take an exam. In fact, she would soon cease to be a student of Hogwarts at all.

Draco was waiting for her in the Entrance Hall with a somewhat dazed expression across his face. “How did you find it?” she asked.

He shuddered. “Well, let’s just say that it’s a good thing I have no burning desire to become an Arithmancer.”

Opening her mouth to begin reviewing each question, Draco quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the sunlit grounds. “Granger,” he implored, “I love you, I really do, but _please_ can we not go over every single detail, just this once.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion and Draco sighed. “Let’s talk about it over dinner instead?” he suggested. When she beamed in response, he knew why it was that he could never refuse her anything.

The cloudless sky housed a white summer sun and Hermione’s skin tingled pleasantly as it absorbed the afternoon warmth. “Where are we going?” she asked as Draco steered her across the grass.

“Just down to the lake. I thought we could relax and bask in the knowledge of finishing our formal education.”

She hummed appreciatively, “I guess we do deserve a break.” 

Having chosen a quiet spot, they lay facing each other and listened to the gentle splash of water as it lapped against the grassy shore.

“What do you think you’ll do,” Hermione asked hesitantly, “if you get the grades you want?”

It was strange she thought, awaiting his reply, that they hadn’t had this discussion yet. On her part, she could admit she was apprehensive about how he might respond. This was an entirely new stage in their relationship: both dating publicly as well as beginning to navigate the future.

“I think I’d like to become a potioneer,” Draco mused. “There are quite a few apprenticeships being advertised at the moment, but I’m not sure which to apply for.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” he paused, softly tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb, “I need to know what you’re going to do.”

Her heart fluttered. “Oh?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he murmured. “So what is it, that you’d like to do?”

“Something within the Ministry, I think. Ultimately, I’d like to be promoting S.P.E.W. and other activism projects, but I know I need to work up to that. I suppose it’s just deciding what the best route might be. I’ve been wondering about taking a position within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

Draco nodded, this didn’t come as a surprise. “And where would you live, do you think?”

From the rough tone of his voice, Hermione knew he was leading her somewhere, but she didn’t want to presume anything in fear of being left disappointed. “Well, Harry did mention I could have my room at Grimmauld Place back, if I wanted it.”

“And do you? Want it?”

“I – I guess I hadn’t really thought about it,” Hermione murmured, aware that this was an outright lie. She and Draco had shared a bed for the last year and the thought of living separately to him after graduation made her feel somewhat nauseous.

“Hermione Granger, not consider such an important aspect of post-Hogwarts life? I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, what about you?” she asked, hoping the pink tinge across her cheekbones wasn’t too noticeable.

He licked his lips nervously. “I want you, I want to live with you and – ”

“Yes,” Hermione interrupted before he had the chance to finish, her breath shifting the white-blonde hair layered across his forehead. “Yes, I want that too.”

Draco’s eyes lit up, light grey sparkling in the sunlight, and his face transformed into a full smile. It was the kind of smile he used to give freely up until sixth year but the more things had changed, the rarer they became.

Her heart clenched as she covered his face with tiny kisses, knowing that if she ever owned a Pensive, this would be one of the memories she treasured above all.


	19. Chapter 19

“I’m really not sure about this…” Hermione protested as Ginny fussed around her.

“You look beautiful,” the redhead chided, swatting her friend’s hand away from attempting to touch her hair.

Much to Ginny’s chagrin, Hermione had refused to go dress shopping for their Graduation Ceremony until N.E.W.T. grades arrived, convinced that it would be bad luck to tempt fate in such a way. Fortunately she had achieved an ‘Outstanding’ in every subject, and they had ventured into Hogsmeade immediately.

Now, as Ginny attempted to soothe her concerns, Hermione was fretting about the dress she had chosen in a moment of nostalgia for the Yule Ball. It was a floor-length, periwinkle blue, satin gown with a fitted V-neck bodice, supported by spaghetti straps that crisscrossed across an open back.

“It’s too low cut,” she moaned. “Why did I let you persuade me this was a good idea?”

“Because it looks amazing!” Ginny retorted, taking a step back to admire her work. “Now, stop whining, Malfoy’s already waiting for you downstairs.”

Hermione’s look of confusion was ignored. “He’s early, the ceremony doesn’t start for – ”

Ginny gestured towards the door and pushed her out.

As she walked into the common room, Draco stood quickly, his eyes roaming languidly up and down. “Merlin,” he breathed. “You’re perfect.”

Hermione flushed and offered her own appreciative gaze. He wore a crisply pressed suit that was such a deep emerald green it matched the black shirt and tie impeccably.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Malfoy,” she replied, aware this was a complete understatement.

“Just for you, Granger,” he drawled, then straightened up. “Right, before we head to the Great Hall, I’ve got something to show you.”

She glared at him suspiciously, he looked far too pleased with himself for this to be a surprise she would enjoy. “I swear to Salazar, if you’ve sabotaged another one of my decorations because you decided they didn’t go with your outfit – ”

Draco smirked and grabbed her hand, steering her out into the corridor and towards the staircase. “Oh, how you wound me with your accusations.”

They eventually rounded a corner near the library and Hermione slowed as two adults came into view. The couple wore Muggle clothing but, glancing at Draco, he didn’t seem to have taken any notice. As they got closer, her heart began to flutter.

Hermione stopped abruptly.

Her knees buckled.

_It couldn’t be?_

Hermione turned wide-eyed to Draco who, watching carefully, nudged her gently forward. “What – ”

A painfully familiar voice called out her name as though it were a question, and that was all Hermione needed to hear.

She stumbled slightly, righted herself, and flew down the corridor, her footsteps ricocheting loudly off the stone walls.

Jean Granger threw her arms around Hermione as Richard gripped her shoulders tightly.

“Oh my God, mum, dad,” her voice broke.

When the three of them pulled apart, she suddenly felt inexplicably nervous. Having never allowed herself the luxury of imagining this moment, Hermione wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Question after question pounded mercilessly against her brain, but all she could do was stare mutely at her parents. They looked at her as though they understood.

“What – I don’t – how are you here?” she spluttered eventually.

Jean smiled at her before turning sharply to Draco, “you really told her absolutely nothing?”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise?” he offered, a faint blush creeping across his cheekbones.

Hermione stared at Draco incredulously and her expression grew almost comical as she watched her father pat him fondly on the shoulder. “Word of wisdom,” he murmured, “Granger women tend not to appreciate surprises, particularly of this magnitude.” Draco nodded solemnly.

“Could someone _please_ explain?”

“Sweetheart,” Jean said, looking aimlessly up and down the corridor, “I wonder whether we ought to be seated for this.”

Draco tipped his head towards an empty classroom and, upon entering, summoned four chairs for the group.

Aware of the limited time available to them, Hermione had to be content with a brief overview until after the Graduation Ceremony.

Draco and her parents explained how, following the inter-House Quidditch match, Narcissa had approached Shacklebolt with a number of rare tomes on Memory Charms from the Malfoy Manor Library. The Minister agreed that Patrick could study the books and make use of any information he deemed safe.

As a result, the work with her parents intensified to a point where they were left constantly drained and exhausted. However, as fragments of their memory were finally beginning to return, they carried on, desperate to remember more of their daughter.

“Once it became clear that we were nearing the end of our treatment, but not entirely ready to see you again Hermione, Patrick thought we should come back to England and spend time with someone who knows you well.” Richard nodded in Draco’s direction.

“So, we’ve been staying at the Manor for the last ten days,” Jean said, continuing the narrative. “Draco has been popping in when he can to fill any gaps we’ve been missing.”

A pensive silence swelled around them before Hermione asked quietly, "are you - are you angry with me?"

“We were,” her mother started, “when we first found out.” Richard squeezed his wife's hand and continued for her, “but after we spoke with Narcissa and Draco here, we understood. It took us a while, but we did.”

Hot tears had begun trailing down Hermione’s cheeks as her parents spoke, Draco gently ran his thumb across her wet skin. “I’m so sorry,” she choked. “It was the hardest decision of my life, I just wanted to keep you safe.”

Richard smiled sadly. “We know love, we just wish you would have spoken to us first; there might have been other options.”

A pulse of light and the quiet chime of a bell interrupted their conversation. Draco apologised, explaining that he had used his wand as an alarm. “We've got to get going, Gra – Hermione."

She looked tentatively at her parents, “you’re staying, aren’t you?”

“Of course we are,” Jean replied, pulling her daughter close. “We’ll be at the front.”

The four of them left the classroom and made their way towards the Great Hall. Hermione was in the middle of providing yet another fact about the castle when two boys raced towards them.

“Merlin,” Ron gasped, leaning heavily on his knees, “we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“McGonagall’s in a flap, wondering what’s happened to you both.” Harry added, glancing briefly at the two extra adults present.

Hermione checked the time and frowned. "We're not late."

"Well, you're always early - of course she's going to be worried about her favourite pupil." She rolled her eyes at Ron who had begun herding them down the corridor. "Just come _on_ , she’s going to have an aneurysm at this rate.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Thank you** again to everyone who has read this story, you have no idea just how much it means to me!
> 
> Whether you have been here from the beginning, when I first began writing this, or joined us somewhere along the way, I appreciate every single one of you ❤️
> 
> \---

“ _There_ you are,” Professor McGonagall said sharply, handing out small piles of black material. “Come on, quickly now.”

Waving goodbye to her parents, Harry, and Ron, Hermione apologised to the Headmistress and grasped Draco’s hand to pull him in line with the other seventh and eighth years waiting to graduate.

The rest of the school were already seated for their arrival and many stared open-mouthed as they entered the Great Hall, whispers reverberating off the walls.

Draco shot a scowl in Hermione’s direction. “I _told_ you we would look ridiculous,” he muttered.

She laughed quietly at his petulant look, too pleased with her achievement to pay him much attention.

It had taken a significant amount of convincing, but Hermione had managed to persuade her peers to don Muggle graduation caps. They had already made great progress in their encouragement of inter-House unity, and she hoped the school would continue promoting an acceptance of difference - particularly if it helped Muggle-born witches and wizards feel more comfortable entering the magical world.

The ceremony was set up in such a way that it ran in almost direct juxtaposition to their arrival in the Great Hall eight years ago. This time, rather than being filled with trepidation as they awkwardly shuffled into the impressive space, they instead walked confidently towards the Headmistress, ready to leave the castle and begin their lives outside of Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall summoned each graduate one by one to the front of the Hall and, although she no longer needed to use her long roll of parchment, persisted in calling them surname first: a small reminder of their experience with the Sorting Hat.

Eventually she read out, “Granger, Hermione.”

Heart pounding with anticipation, Hermione glanced over her shoulder to find her parents in the front row before slowly making her way forward.

Professor McGonagall held out a hand for her to shake but, forgetting herself in a sudden swell of emotion, Hermione ignored it and wrapped her arms around the older witch’s neck. She realised her mistake when McGonagall gave her a gentle pat on the back, and she stepped away in a haze of embarrassment.

“Hermione,” the Headmistress smiled, eyes shining slightly, “it’s been a pleasure getting to know you over the last eight years, and a privilege to see you grow in confidence both personally and academically.” Hermione felt her own eyes begin to burn. “You will be sorely missed, but I’m looking forward to seeing what you achieve in the future.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she choked. “I can’t begin to tell you how much that means coming from you. I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for us all over the years.”

“Don’t be a stranger, please do visit us whenever you like.”

Hermione dipped her head and walked quickly away, hoping to avoid the onslaught of tears that were threatening to overwhelm her. She came to standstill at the front of the Great Hall, surrounded by peers whose names had already been called.

When it was Draco’s turn, Professor McGonagall handed him a small white envelope and murmured something with a kind look on her face. Walking away, he grinned and flashed Hermione a glimpse of the red wax seal emblazoned with an ‘M’.

“Draco,” she breathed as he reached her. “Is that – is that what I think it is?”

He nodded, eyes bright, “there are no concerns regarding my probation period, I’ve passed with flying colours.” Hermione struggled to quell the excitement bubbling inside her. “It’s all over, Granger, _and_ they’re considering reducing the term of my mother’s house arrest.”

“I’m so, so happy for you,” she beamed, trying to keep her voice low. 

Draco pulled her close and they refocused back on the Headmistress as she continued working her way through the students. It didn’t take long before Pansy, Ginny, and Blaise came to join them.

Professor McGonagall’s voice resonated suddenly around the Hall, “and now, as we say goodbye to our class of 1999, we remember that every end has a new beginning. Good luck to you all.”

The sound of raucous applause and stamping feet filled the room in response, and the Headmistress gestured for the seventh and eighth years to begin exiting the castle.

Hermione gripped Draco’s hand as they headed towards the doors, linking arms with Ginny on her other side. Neville and the others followed closely behind. Whilst their friends and family were going to walk into Hogsmeade, ready to Apparate onwards, the graduates would meet them there following a boat ride across the Black Lake.

There was little conversation held as the group walked, each lost to their own ruminations. Only the quiet crunch of footsteps upon grass filled the silence.

As they approached the lake, Hermione eyed the small wooden vessels, each bobbing quietly, and another wave of nostalgia washed over her like the water lapping at the shore. She readied herself to complete the circle and make the return journey to that of her eleven-year old self.

Stepping carefully over the threshold, Hermione and Draco sat facing backwards, committing the sharp outline of Hogwarts to memory as the boat drew them away. She smiled to herself as she reflected on some of her experiences within those castle walls, still not quite believing that it was the end of her time there.

She noticed a few members of staff walk down the stone steps and stand before the great oak doors, watching their students float gradually away. Despite the fading light, she could just make out Hagrid’s wayward beard and Professor McGonagall’s pointed hat. The latter raised her wand and shot a burst of silver light into the darkening sky, Hermione gasped as it transformed into a spectacular firework display.

Resting her head on Draco’s shoulder, she waited until the last spark flickered out and finally felt ready to say goodbye.


End file.
